


Statistically significant

by Ninhaoma



Series: A treaty on the heartiness of citrus fruits [6]
Category: One Piece
Genre: Afternoon Tea, Alternate Universe - College/University, Canon-Typical Violence, Casa de Sunny, F/M, Holding a grudge, I have no idea what to tag this as, Luffy goes to a party, Luffy's thesis, Maison de la Merry, Nami's mission of sunshine and happiness and puppies and other cute nonsense, Revenge is best served cold, Schrödinger’s self-esteem, Slow Burn, Tags will be updated, Tea Party, The game is on, Uni AU, no beta we die like the pirate king, positive feedback loops, sharing is caring, tricksy postdocs
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-09
Updated: 2021-02-26
Packaged: 2021-03-08 21:13:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 25,810
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27473329
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ninhaoma/pseuds/Ninhaoma
Summary: When research funding becomes available, ancient customs decree the arrival of a new postdoc in town. And as the newest addition to their lively little corner of the campus makes himself as comfortable as a 'lanky six-foot-something bastard' can be in the best office available, Nami and the other residents of Casa de Sunny might find out that there's more to the mysterious exterior of one Doctor Trafalgar Law than meets the eye.Or, 'my take on the university AU no-one asked for'.-_-_-You have been warned. Tags and pairings and such to be updated as things progress. Rated as M for references to alcohol, other references to blatant swearing, and further references to upcoming sexy times.Will be updated somewhat regularly. There is an outline but no plan. None whatsoever.The characters involved should actually sail the seas with Eichiiro Oda, but I thank him for letting me borrow them for the moment. All mistakes are my own.
Relationships: Nami/Trafalgar D. Water Law
Series: A treaty on the heartiness of citrus fruits [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1751857
Comments: 38
Kudos: 33





	1. The Corner Office

When funding for research becomes available, the resulting postdoc is seen as the rightful property of some one or the other of the lucky faculty.

Usually, the candidate is carefully selected from the most promising students at the home university. But sometimes the perfect candidate comes from outside the university’s hallowed halls; from another city, or even another country, bringing with them new and exciting ideas.

“Scandal,” Usopp nodded sagely, taking a measured sip from his pint.

“Really?” Zoro mused, leaning back in his chair and not really following the discussion around the table, contemplating getting another drink. Or fourth, if we’re being pedantic.

“Must be,” Sanji shrugged. “It’s the only reason.”

“Don’t be silly,” Nami scoffed, as she sat down a pint before Zoro who grabbed it eagerly with a forgotten ‘thanks’ thrown in for good measure, before slipping into her own seat, cradling her own beverage. “You know fully well that people want to come here because of the quality of education and research. And they sometimes leave their old alma mater because of personality clashes – I know that _you_ ,” here she pointed at the last member of their little troupe, a young man in a red shirt and a bright hat made of straw, “have changed your thesis topic _again_ and are thus in need of a new supervisor. _Again_.”

“Shishishi,” the young man grinned at her, taking a swig from Zoro’s pint to an indignant ‘Oi!’ and a dodged slap to the back of his head. “I just realised that it’s much more interesting to do my thesis on how weather impacts the social tendencies of Rove beetles, rather than the social tendencies themselves.”

“And it doesn’t have anything to do with you now not having to work for old Red-Nose”, she asked with a raised eyebrow. Old Red-Nose, or Buggy the Clown, or Associate Professor Baldrick Jester as he insisted he be called, was a well-known terror of the entomology department. His research questions were vague, his lab time limited to the negatives, his supervision non-existent and his temper volatile. A nightmare come true for the poor students roped into his research projects.

“I have no idea what you are talking about,” he answered with the fakest look of innocence the drinking hall had seen since Zoro ‘promised he just found the table like that, it just fell apart and he had absolutely nothing to do with it whatsoever’.

“Well, whatever the reason, professor Nico has shortlisted the candidates and we’ll soon see who will get the best damn office on the campus,” Nami said, raising her glass in a toast to limited office space.

Rumours soon started circulating regarding the new office occupant. According to Vivi from international politics, he was to join with his own funding and a research team. Rebecca, younger and more in tune with the grapevine, hotly refuted this, instead whispering about an almost magic touch with publishing and conference acceptance. Shirahoshi, fresh in linguistics, had heard that he even had personal connections to some of the main contributors to the field of forensic entomology – not something entirely impossible in this case, as Nami pointed out that professor Nico Robin, whom he would be working for and who was sitting two tables over from theirs in the café the four of them were currently enjoying lunch in, was one of the main authorities when it came to decaying bodies and bugs. The field really wasn’t that big.

The truth, of course, was a little bit of column A and a little bit of column B.

Trafalgar Law didn’t come with his own research team, but it was his project proposal that had gotten the department the funding they craved. He did not bring with him a team, just a research assistant in the form of a large polar bear mink. And he did seem to have quite a way with publications, getting his first paper accepted into the Lancet at the tender age of twenty-two. He was, thus, a young man of great renown and even greater academic wealth. He had graduated with stellar results at an extremely young age, before pursuing a doctorate at one of the major universities across the pond.

A postdoc of dreams, in short.

And his first public appearance would be at the annual Halloween Masquerade, a revered tradition of at least the last three years or so, and an excellent excuse for people to dress up, cheer for bottoms up, feel each other up, and lastly, completing the upward trajectory, throwing up. A splendid reason to party, in short.

Everyone was burning with desire to see his mink (‘It’s a _he_ , not an _it_ , and for the last time Luffy, you can’t eat a person, not even a bear-shaped one’, said Chopper) and the mysterious wunderkind.

And when he finally entered the party, he quickly drew the notice of everyone inside by his tall stature, dark looks, and the whisper that circulated within a few minutes about the three papers he had published in the last month alone.

Nami had been engaged in a beer pong match with Sanji and Zoro against Vivi and some of her friends from politics who were winning spectacularly, thanks in part to being female and Sanji’s inability to behave around what he termed ‘the fairer sex’ and other people called ‘women’, but mostly due to their apparent telepathic skills and precision with a thrown ping-pong ball.

Nami was sulking, having missed her last shot by a mile, when she noticed the ying-yang of dark, tall human and white, even taller mink at the entrance of the hall. A surreptitious elbow in Zoro’s ribs directed his attention as well, resulting in two pairs of narrowed eyes. Sanji, his pale green outfit offset by a bright red bowtie and matching belt, was busy fluttering around the victorious ladies and had thus no time to review the newcomer.

“So that’s the geek who got the corner office,” Zoro mused, crossing his arms in front of him. This was quite an impressive sight, as he had come dressed as some character from one of those Japanese comic books, red vest hanging open over his bare chest where a, by now somewhat smudged, large scar had been painstakingly painted by Usopp. The muscles in his arms got even more defined as he crossed his arms, and if he would care about such things, Nami could point out at least five people in their immediate surroundings who would gladly have taken him home to divest him of the vest as well as the silly hat he must have borrowed from Luffy to complete his ensemble.

Vivi glanced over, having secured another win for her team. She had lost her towering headgear at some point in the evening, leaving only a linen tunic and goldish jewellery to create the impression of Nefertiti, queen of Egypt.

“Seems to be that way,” she mused, tilting her head in contemplation. “Do you think he’s single?”

Nami laughed, adjusting the wire that kept her orange pigtails up. She had chosen to go with the flow of Halloween, and come as the slutty version of Pippi Longstockings, her homeland’s main literary export. She mainly did it as it was one of the only options available to someone looking for a costume at the very last minute and she had laughed too hard at the suggestion not to take it.

“Only one way to find out. But as we both know which one of us has the guts to actually do something about it, I think I’ll just go…” she made a show of putting down her beer and adjusting her cleavage.

Vivi narrowed her eyes.

“Oh no you don’t! You managed to sneak off with that cute exchange student from Egypt during the summer party. You are _not_ taking this one.”

“But Beebee,” Nami whined, batting her eyelashes and pouting. “He was so utterly boring and just kept talking about ‘what the fates have in store for us this magical evening’. And you know, his expression never changed, not once! Not even when I–“

“And that’s my cue!” Vivi blushed, straightened her dress, threw Nami’s wide grin a scandalised but amused look, and glided off, her dress floating around her.

Nami’s grin softened into a smile as she regarded her friend approach the dark newcomer.

Zoro shot her a side-eye.

“You are an evil witch, Nami. You know she can’t resist a dare.”

“Oh yes, I am,” her smile morphed back into a full-fledged smirk as she sipped her beer. “But I also know that Vivi has a thing for the tall and dark ones, and I was planning on going home alone for once, so win-win?”

Zoro snorted, clinking his glass against hers. “I take it back. You are, at times, a considerate witch.”

“Damn right I am,” she answered, downing the rest of her beer. “Please excuse me, I think I saw Kid in a _ridiculous_ steampunk costume with a– is that a _mechanic arm_? – and I think I just saw something over there I really have to take care of…”

With that, she slipped off into the fray.

And after a while, as is the custom when time goes on and people are having fun, the party was winding down.

Nami had managed to successfully evade Kid for the better part of the evening by being strategically in another part of the room than him, but had still somehow gotten involved in a heated discussion with the mechanics student regarding the best way to hack GPS machines, as _she_ wanted one with Alan Rickman’s voice and _he_ wanted one with Carrie Fisher, neither of which were attainable. The discussion only ended with the arrival of Luffy and Kid’s best friend Killer, who had dressed in a red mask with matching sci-fi-esque armour, kidnapping Kid for some nefarious purpose involving a bucket and some apples.

Vivi had returned after a while with a resigned sigh and her efforts in vain; the mysterious maven had apparently been too occupied with his mink friend to even notice her tries of introducing herself. Luckily enough, she soon forgot all about her heartbreak when Koza from the department of Sustainability Services appeared. Not dark and mysterious, but fair and striking, he had held a torch for Vivi for some time now, and if Nami’s eyes didn’t lie, it seemed like Vivi was starting to warm up to him.

The only downside to the party was Trafalgar Law himself.

During the evening, the newest addition to their academic sphere had shown himself to be reserved, haughty, and quite rude. Trafalgar had only talked with his friend, not even trying to get acquainted with the other partygoers, instead opting to stalk around the perimeter of the room. Nami’s initial dislike was then sharpened into something more like resentment by an overheard discussion that she had been privy to, quite by mistake.

She had just stood by the refreshment table, minding her own business and deciding if she wanted another beer or if she should stick to water at this point in the evening, when an unfamiliar voice had drifted across.

“–really Law, it’s silly to attend something like this just to stand around, sulking. Why don’t you at least try to talk to people?”

“Bepo, I really don’t want to discuss this further. We’ve made an appearance, let’s just go now.”

That must be the mink and the mysterious doctor Trafalgar. The pair stood a bit to the side from her, partly obscured by a large potted plant. At least Bepo the mink seemed inclined to socialise with them and Nami instantly liked him without having exchanged a word with him in her life.

“Just try,” she could hear a whine enter into the mink’s voice. “It wouldn’t kill you to talk to someone. What about her? She seems friendly enough?”

“Her?” The pause was pregnant. “She looks like any basic twenty-something. Slutty version of famous fictional character; how utterly dull. Even if she has the… attributes… to carry the costume, I can’t even imagine how boring she has to be. No Bepo, let’s forget this sad excuse of a party and go home.”

As there were no other people matching that description in the vicinity, Nami had to conclude that Trafalgar Law was indeed talking about her. Usually, she would have stormed right up to him and given him a piece of her mind, but the pair happened to move away and get lost in the crowd before she had time to gather herself for a proper scolding.

Luckily enough, they had made their exit soon afterwards, lifting Nami’s spirits as they went, and she then witnessed Kid stalking off, drenched from head to toe and followed by a visibly amused Killer, which just made the ending to her evening so much the better.

There was still some joy left in the world.


	2. Kitchen and coffee

Nami was rather happy with her life.

She was finishing up her degree at one of the best universities in the world, while working a suitably cushy part-time job as the department assistant thanks to her predecessor going on a year-long sabbatical. There was apparently something very interesting about the far reaches of Kazakhstan. Maybe she’d go there herself one day.

The house she shared with her friends, jokingly named Casa de Sunny by Luffy, situated a hop, a skip and a bike ride away from the hallowed halls of academia, was always filled with laughter (mainly Luffy) and someone (usually Sanji) to bully into taking over her cleaning duties on Wednesdays. The town itself was a quaint little thing, one of those strangely magical places that you first couldn’t believe really existed if you didn’t experience it for yourself (when you spent some time there, however, there was no escaping the experience of reality and all the small details that brought with it. Like the Trash Strike that was going on its third month).

In short, her present was nice and her future looked bright, acceptance into a prestigious trainee programme in hand since summer. And now the whole world was decked in beautiful autumn colours and she finally get those lovely seasonally themed coffees from the corner shop again.

There really was nothing she could wish for.

Other than the absence of one recently hired postdoc.

Once Trafalgar Law started, and got the coveted corner office with the best views, her life became a drag. When normal employees joined their little circle, they usually tried to get to know people, to make some small talk, to try and find the answer on the intranet before asking her about everything from where to find paperclips to how to book lecture halls to whom to send bills for whatever ‘major movable equipment’ was.

Not Trafalgar Law.

His questions and inquiries approached the absurd, with Nami losing count of how many times she showed him where the office supplies were kept at some point around the end of term. He was usually one of the first at the office, before even the ever-energetic Vivi (who had quickly forgotten about her slight at the Halloween Masquerade in favour of an uptick in the frequency of coffees taken with Koza). He was also one of the last to leave, as Nami heard from professor Nico one day. The door to his office was kept closed and the man himself was seldom seen and never without his friend, the adorable Bepo. When he was seen, he usually stayed silent and acknowledged people with a nod, if at all.

He was, in short, a true annoyance. No matter how cute Vivi thought he was (coffees with Koza notwithstanding, Nami and Vivi held to the belief that one should _always_ appreciate beauty in the human form when occasion calls for it) and however much Nami silently agreed with her.

And, although she wasn’t sure if he realised it had been her that he had used so disparaging words about at the party, he had _insulted_ her. While Nami normally wasn’t one to hold a grudge for an unreasonable amount of time, for some reason his flippant words were still grating her. She got even more annoyed at her inability to let it go, getting stuck in a, paradoxically named, positive feedback loop of slowly increasing annoyance.

So, naturally, she had made it her mission to make his life hell. Not in any ways related to mismanaging her job, of course. Instead, she had sat down and thought long and hard about what the best way to bother him and make his life as irritating as possible might be. And one glorious morning, she had it.

And that is the story of how she embarked on a mission of sunshine and happiness and puppies and other cute nonsense.

A suspiciously bright-coloured _Welcome to the team!_ -card appeared at his desk, together with a stuffed Hello Kitty-doll she found in a second-hand shop. She always greeted him with the sunniest ‘Hello!’ she could manage, throwing in a blinding smile for good measure. Whenever there was a social gathering in the break room, she made a point of loudly knocking on their door ‘just to make sure you boys don’t miss out’ and somehow their office had become the go-to place for all plants that were left by previous faculty.

But her true masterstroke was befriending Bepo. This was quite easy to do, as the mink was lovely and exceedingly friendly, although he possessed the lowest self-esteem Nami had ever encountered. That assessment included Usopp, who was the poster-boy for some kind of Schrödinger’s self-esteem: he was either magnificent or terrible, but you never knew until you asked him about his day.

But Bepo was befriended and thus her revenge neared completion.

She’d fill Trafalgar Law’s days with saccharine cheerfulness, even if it killed her.

Those truly were the days of her life. She was thriving with her self-imposed mission – and truth be told, it was beginning to get a bit funny (and progressively difficult) to try and figure out new ways to spread joy like glitter after a crafts project. She was almost looking forward to the approaching holiday season, when she’d be able to introduce him to the joy of remote-controlled Christmas lights with almost synchronised matching music. She did, however, draw the line at the start of December. No decorations (or tinny ‘Jingle bells’) before then.

However, it became a bit hard to continue with her evil plan of Ruining Trafalgar Law’s Days With Joy once she heard the news that Luffy had finally gotten a new thesis supervisor.

Who of course just so happened to be one Trafalgar Law.

Nami didn’t want to mix work with pleasure with her friends, and she knew that even Luffy would notice her altered work-personality. She might be somewhat of a happy-go-lucky person in general, but she wasn’t usually caught humming “Don’t stop believin’” out loud.

Zoro would never let her live it down if he knew her well-hidden passion for pop music.

But on the other hand, Law being Luffy’s supervisor gave her _so_ much more ammunition.

It was really quite easy to let Luffy into the offices a few moments before his scheduled meetings started, or to invite him more often for tea or coffee than she usually did (she did value her working hours after all, and work became almost impossible when Luffy was present), just to see the fleeting look of pain and misery that flitted over Law’s face when he realised that the hyper-energetic youngster was present.

It really was a sight to be seen.

But soon things found a natural rhythm. Happy greetings were countered with nods and grunts, weird questions about how to order IT-equipment dealt with, and Bepo included in her and Vivi’s biweekly afternoon teas, the three of them being the youngest at the department.

“I miss Merry,” Nami sighed one bland morning, as she sipped her morning coffee. Vivi looked at her with a perplexed expression as she stirred milk into her own cup of tea. They were currently standing in the office kitchen, having initiated the sacred and ancient procedure of getting something caffeinated into their systems at daybreak in order to be able to properly function.

“I thought it became too small?”

“Merry was not an ‘it’,” Nami snapped, it being way too early in the morning to be rational about one’s housing decisions. “Maison de la Merry was a lovely little living arrangement that I will always cherish in my heart.”

“Merry was lovely, I agree with you on that. But didn’t Chopper have to sleep on the sofa in the end as you ran out of rooms, even though I moved out?”

“Details,” Nami waved her friend’s opposition away. “Who cares about a doctor with a bad back; not themselves, from what I’ve seen.”

“True that, Nami-ya,” came a low voice from behind her, as a tattooed hand reached in front of her face to get the milk. Damn that man and his silent ways. Nami might have let out a small yelp of surprise at that. Not that she’d confess it to anyone. Not even Vivi, who was currently looking at her with an eyebrow raised. “Doctors know all too well the myriad little ways our bodies are designed to mess up and how close we are to the brink of dying all the time. We therefore live life to the fullest and engage in all possible vices in the brief time we have in this world.”

“I didn’t know you were a medical doctor,” Vivi asked, brow furrowed. “I thought you were here to work with professor Nico on forensics?”

“I am a doctor,” the department’s newest addition answered as he took a look at the milk carton, _tshk_ -ed, and swapped it out for the resident plant milk instead.

“How can you drink that?” Nami asked aghast, regarding the container as if it had personally offended her. “It tastes like the broken dreams of produce that could have become something so much better than _oat_ milk, of all things.”

“Allergic to soy and lactose intolerant,” Law said noncommittally, replacing the carton in the fridge. “And it tastes better in coffee than other non-dairy options. But to answer your question,” he continued, turning back to Vivi, “I am a medical doctor, but my speciality is forensic pathology.”

“Living people not for you, then?” Nami asked with a demure smile, refilling her coffee cup. For the third time. Within ten minutes. But she felt she really earned it this time, if she had to be subjected to Law’s annoying presence much longer.

“I tried working with living people for a while in the casualty department, but they tend to scream too much,” Law answered, giving Nami a slow, sadistic grin in the process.

“You, kind sir, are an atrocious human being.”

“Am I a good person? No. But do I try to be better every single day?” Law shrugged. “Also no.”

“Well, let’s try to better that grumpy face with some little student-faculty football!” Nami beamed at him, gesturing to a bright poster next to the fridge, where a cartoony player in the university’s colours was seen kicking a ball towards a motivational headline of the importance of good faculty-student connections. “Come on, the last Thursday of the month! It’s so much fun to see their sad little faces when they lose.”

Law’s almost magical disappearance from the kitchen was accompanied by a tinkling laugh from the ladies left to enjoy their morning caffeine in peace and gossip.

-_-_-

Law tried to repress the enormous sigh that clawed its way up his oesophagus.

He failed spectacularly.

This had been the worst day of his life so far, he was sure of it. Well, if he didn’t include those horrible years between the ages of fifteen and five-and-twenty, but who did? In his proper, adult life, this was the worst day so far.

It had started off so nicely. Taking a nice, sunlit walk to the office, enjoying the peace and quiet before the rest of the faculty decided to start trickling in. Getting himself a nice cup of joe (the office machines produced surprisingly good coffee) and even trying to be somewhat social with his colleagues. Most of the people here were… acceptable. But even he had to admit that the youngest duo was growing on him, especially after they started feeding Bepo scones and ridiculous blends of tea. Who had even heard of “Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer Christmas Tea”? In November?

Vivi, research assistant in a project of cross-cultural medical exchange, was hard to dislike, being eternally sunny and kind. But Nami… there was something about that woman. She had one of the most cheerful dispositions he’d ever encountered, not intimidated in the least by his dour appearance, countering his sullen character with limitless amounts of liveliness and patience. He’d even tested her limits a bit with how many times he could ask for the route to the supply room, but she never gave up, just showed him the way with a smile.

It didn’t hurt that she was pretty as a peach as well.

He was relatively sure he’d seen her in passing at the Halloween party and that he’d inadvertently scorned her; on the other hand, her choice of clothing had been truly atrocious. Well, it didn’t seem like she’d heard him, as sunny as she was acting towards him.

Maybe he should take her up on the idea of attending the football game.

But that thought process had to wait until his current nightmare was over.

He regarded the young man in front of him with a weariness originating in too many hours of tutoring and too little coffee. Truth be told, there might not be enough coffee in the whole world for this. The young man in question had been prattling on about all manner of things besides his thesis for the last half hour and hadn’t taken one, not a single one, of Law’s previous suggestions into consideration. Not even the one regarding proper grammar and punctuation.

“–and that’s why horses don’t exist. Am I right, Traffy?” the younger man concluded, happy grin in place, as he bounced on the edge of his chair.

“I’m almost certain you’re not, but to be fair, I wasn’t listening.” Law sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose. “Now, if you actually want to graduate at some point, could we get back to your thesis?”

After another half an hour, he could finally dismiss the overly energetic bundle of joy, his work finally having some semblance of direction. Why he was interested in forensic entomology was anyone’s guess, as was the reasoning that had made professor Nico deem _him_ to be the most suitable supervisor for such a project. Luffy had some interesting ideas, but Law had severe reservations about his attention span and its adequacy to the task of Finishing His Thesis.

The blessed peace lasted exactly six and two fifths of a minute. Then the heavens opened, proving to Law once and for all, that no matter how horrible things are at the moment, they can always be worse.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Limitations and delimitations:  
> This chapter uses some translated phrases for artistic emphasis and humour, the authenticity of which cannot be ensured. I sincerely hope that you'll still enjoy this rendition of Merry and Sunny. The choice of Kazakhstan to represent a far-flung place was due to the fact that it's far away from me at the moment and I really want to visit someday.
> 
> More on limitations and delimitations in research: https://research-methodology.net/research-methods/research-limitations/
> 
> And if you want to know more about positive feedback loops (also known as self-reinforcing loops), go to https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Positive_feedback


	3. Sharing is caring

Nami let an irritated sight escape her as she dropped the papers on her desk. This had been the worst day of her life so far; she was sure of it. Well, not counting those horrible teenage years with all that entailed, but of her adult life so far. It even beat the last time Kid tried to ask her out on a date, causing the fire brigade to be called in the process and a lifetime ban for both of them from the campus swimming pool.

Of course, there would be a small, tiny, insignificant problem with the pipes, flooding Law’s room, and _of course_ her office was the only one with extra room. ‘And as you are here only two days a week, it would really be best…’ she imitated the droning voice of the department chair in her head. Well, if all the stars aligned and she was a very lucky girl indeed, they would have it fixed within the week, releasing her from this hell, personally crafted and meticulously sculpted just for her.

And speaking of the devil, he’ll follow you into your office.

Luckily enough, he was so new that his flooded office hadn’t held much to save or move, and he had quickly made himself, as well as his research assistant Bepo, comfortable in her office without taking too much of her precious space. She had to share too much of her comforts at home; at work, she wanted her room.

She sent the tall man a withering look that he totally ignored and possibly didn’t even notice, as occupied as he was with reading something or other, using his hip to push the door closed behind him, his other hand occupied with a steaming mug of coffee.

“Oh. You’re here,” was the monotone greeting she received as he finally noticed she was in the room.

“Well, hello there!” she answered in her brightest tone, sending him a blinding smile. It was so much fun to pretend to be an overly energetic golden retriever, just to try to rattle him. After more than a month into their acquaintance, it still gave her great joy and satisfaction. She’d have to be more careful with her boundaries, though. Usopp had almost caught her humming ‘Livin’ on a prayer’ the other day.

And luckily enough Zoro had been asleep on the sofa as she waltzed into the living room, belting out ‘Firework’ at the top off her voice.

She wasn’t sure if her saccharine approach to Law had any affect, however. Sometimes he seemed irritated while at others he just sighed and shook his head. And at times, he just stared, gaze neutral.

Her normal state of being a tad tired with the entire world was also fighting its way through her armour of cheer and happy thoughts, causing her interactions with him to become more confrontational than they had been in the beginning.

“Make anyone cry today?”

Law didn’t even raise an eyebrow as he went back to perusing his report or article draft or what have you.

“Sadly, no. But it’s only 4:30. I still have time.”

Nami rolled her eyes as she plopped down in her chair, dragging her laptop towards her.

“Don’t let me intrude on your entertainment,” she mumbled, staring at the rolling circle on her screen as she waited for the computer to start so she could catalogue these bloody papers and finally be free from his oppressing presence for the weekend.

“Don’t worry. You don’t.”

She sent him a glare that would have melted steel and turned lesser men to babbling heaps of nerves and fear. He countered it with an even stare and a sip from his coffee mug.

Bastard.

After a week, they got a notice from maintenance that Law’s office would be out of commission for ‘the foreseeable future’, whatever that meant. Nami swore inwardly as she got roped into accepting Law and Bepo’s presence for the time being, ‘as you _are_ here only two days a week so it really should be quite all right, dear’.

She then swore out loud, went for the longest and hardest run in recent memory, almost threw up when she got back, and went to bed early that day.

There was something so very irritating about her new officemates.

Well, one of them.

Law seemed to be all over the place, which was a feat at a university that had spread out over the city during the centuries like butter over a warm piece of toast. He was always in her office when she was there, which was to be expected, but then he started permeating her life outside work as well which was most vexing. It ranged from bumping into him at the cafeteria to suffering through a lecture on data analysis in her quantitative research methods seminar, not forgetting the curious incident of the postdoc in the night-time: she had forgotten her scarf, warm and soft and patterned with a normal distribution, at the office and had found the elusive postdoc asleep in his chair.

His assistant was another matter altogether. In truth, Nami adored Bepo. The mink was as shy as he was intimidating, easily falling into morose moods and apologising profusely at the slightest rebuttal. It was hard not to try to cheer him up and impossible to stay mad at him, even though he sometimes raided her cookie stash. He was also a brilliant researcher and knew more about probabilities than almost anyone she knew. Nami was elated once she learned that Bepo had a bachelor’s in meteorology, her main subject; many a long afternoon was then spent discussing the differences between classical and empirical probability and how they could be used in predicting weather patterns. When these discussions intruded on their biweekly tea sessions, Vivi usually just sighed and muttered something about how ‘they need to leave work in the office as this time is for scones and tea and anyway, they really should be using subjective probability with those time-spans’.

One overcast Thursday, Bepo looked perplexed when the redhead entered the office after lunch.

“Nami? Not that I’m questioning your fashion choices, but why are you wearing shorts and a t-shirt? Isn’t it too cold for that sort of clothing for humans?”

There had been a brief kerfuffle related to the thermostat, due to the differing internal temperatures of a twenty-something human woman and a twenty-something polar bear. The almost-ancient-nearing-thirty human male had refrained from interfering. The solution, after long negotiations and some attempts at bribery, was a heap of blankets and a pair of cosy socks (and a scarf with a normal distribution) for Nami who was somewhat surprised at the mink’s proficiency at knitting.

Her socks had a pattern of jaunty mikans on them.

She cherished Bepo and would cheerfully maim anyone who dared make him sad.

Nami stopped in the doorway and looked down at her ensemble: a brightly coloured t-shirt with the student union logo on it, coupled with matching shorts and high socks. Somewhat scuffed trainers completed her athletic outfit.

“Didn’t I ask you to be on the team? We’re having the yearly football match between faculty and students today and we’re somewhat short on players on the student side. I’m just getting my stuff; the match starts at two o’clock,” she said as she shrugged on her jumper. She might be playing in shorts and a t-shirt, but it was still cold outside.

“Sorry,” the mink sighed, dark clouds gathering instantly. “I forgot.”

“No worries!” Nami hurried to reassure the downcast mink. “I would have forgotten too if Sanji wouldn’t have reminded me this morning.”

“Your boyfriend?” The mink asked, head cocked curiously, as she started finishing off the day’s projects in preparation for the afternoon match.

“Oh, hell no!” Nami stopped herself and stole a furtive glance around the office. She didn’t mind sharing such things with Bepo, but their office-bound third wheel was quite another matter. The course, however, seemed clear. “No, no. We’re just housemates and as both are playing today, he was kind enough to remind me to take my sport gear with me this morning.”

“Do you play football often?”

“Nah, I’m more of a racket girl myself, but I’m all right with most ball sports. And it’s nice to imagine an annoying face on the ball when I get to kick it,” she smiled toothily at the now slightly nervous mink. “Don’t worry,” she laughed as Bepo inched away from her. “I could never imagine hurting you, you fuzzball! Your boss on the other hand…”

“What about me?” a deep voice behind her asked as a tattooed hand gently propelled her out of the doorway to let the third wheel enter their shared office.

“Just wondering about the upcoming game,” Nami chirped. Damn that man and his silent ways. “Coming to watch it?”

“I don’t watch games.”

“Well, I’m sure that is very sad for the game,” she said, fluttering her eyelashes dramatically. “All those people gathered to show off their skills, putting their best foot forward, and no-one to see it play out. A true tragedy.”

“A travesty indeed,” Law said as he turned his computer towards him.

“Captain, don’t you have to get ready?” Bepo asked Law.

“I still have time.”

“Ready for what?” Nami inquired, having secured her hair in a braid. Nothing worse than getting a face full of hair in the middle of a kick.

“Things I do instead of watching games,” was the only answer she got.

“Have it your way,” Nami puffed her cheeks. Sometimes that man really grated on her last nerve. “And you still haven’t told me why you call him Captain,” she said, turning to Bepo.

“Just an old habit, as I’ve said before,” Law interrupted, sending Bepo a glare. “That he’s trying his best to drop.”

“Sorry, Captain,” the dark clouds gathered again over Bepo’s head.

“Anyways, “Nami said, trying to save Bepo from the impeding bout of (totally unjustified in her opinion) dejection. “We’ll get back to that after the game. Who knows, we might even have some news on the professorship then!”

The clouds dispersed. Bepo loved office gossip almost as much as Nami and Vivi, which, combined with his inoffensive nature and teddy bear looks that made people inclined to confide in him, made him an excellent addition to their tea parties. “I heard they’ve narrowed the pool down to three. One from somewhere in the Nordics, one from the other place–“ a short break allowed Nami and Bepo to furrow their brows at each other and shake their fists; Bepo had been introduced to the rivalry between their alma mater and their longstanding competitor and was now merrily upholding centuries old traditions of thoroughly justified competition “–and someone from overseas.”

“It would be nice to finally get that other assistant position filled as well,” Nami sighed. While she was only working two days a week, her workload was something slightly different. There had been a vacancy for another assistant for a while, but the dean had left it open ‘just until we fill that open position for a professor and then we’ll have a look at the labour division. You know Nami, you’ve done such an excellent job–’. The other department assistant position had been open since the last one left for greener pastures in March. That had been over six months ago.

She really didn’t know what they were going to do when she went on exchange in the spring. Well, out of sight, out of mind. And it wasn’t her problem, after all.

“Interviews next week? Here’s to hoping they find a good one,” Nami smiled at the mink. “Well, I’m off. Try to keep this place from flooding.”

“I’ll try my best,” Bepo said, giving the woman a mock salute. It had taken him some time to understand Nami wasn’t serious when she warned him from flooding her office, but she thought he’d got it now.

“No warning for me?” Law asked, eyebrows raised.

“I trust Bepo to keep you in line.”

“Good thing that one out of three in this room is trustworthy.”

“What? I am trustworthy!” she exclaimed, eyes large and imploring as she clasped her hands in front of her chest.

Law levelled her a look.

“Bepo?”

The mink looked from his boss to his friend.

He then hid behind his computer.

“I think you might have trust issues,” Nami sighed dramatically as she checked her computer was turned off (she had learned her lesson after coming back to a background of a cat clad in toast, riding a rainbow one day – she knew precisely whom to blame) and grabbed her bag.

“It’s not an issue,” Law answered, narrowing his eyes at her. “I choose not to trust people.”

“Well, hopefully you’ll soon have your office back and a new assistant will grace me with their presence in this drab little nook,” Nami smiled sweetly. “Then you won’t have any such concerns anymore.” She waved cheerily at Bepo as she made for the field, making sure the door didn’t close all the way so the annoying, smarmy, infuriating bastard of a postdoc would have to close it himself. She knew he would do it; he doted on Bepo even more than she did, and that was saying something.

Serves _him_ right.

She never said she wasn’t petty, after all.

Just that she didn’t hold grudges for unreasonably long times.

And although the gnawing irritation of his slight at the party had disappeared almost completely, there was something about him that got under her skin, leaving an itch she couldn’t scratch.

Petty was justified.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For future research, the author suggests an investigation into the inner workings of the game known as 'football'. There are several interesting possibilities concerning this area, and the author hopes to utilise commonly accepted data gathering methods to develop this idea in an upcoming submission.
> 
> For further information on probabilities in weather prediction, the author recommends Murphy and Winkler (1984), found at https://www.jstor.org/stable/2288395?seq=1#metadata_info_tab_contents


	4. The Game is on

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have no experience whatsoever of football. Everything comes from google – please let me know if I've misunderstood something.

The large sign above the field made Nami roll her eyes. “’No Devil Fruit abilities allowed in game’. Does that really help to avoid cheating?”

Sanji gave a noncommittal grunt as he tightened his shoelaces. “Well, it’s easy to spot some of the more obvious ones, so we just kick them out if they don’t use a blocker. But the referee needs to keep an eye out for the sneakier ones.”

“That explains how you’ve managed to keep the team Luffy-free at least,” Nami mused, dropping her bag at a bench on the student’s side of the field, next to the motley collection of duffel bags and rucksacks already assembled. “I can’t imagine him having the patience to play without using his powers.”

“It took about three minutes before he was banned for life,” Sanji grinned. “Even the blocker didn’t help. The referee today is old Tsuru, so there shouldn’t be any cheating, she’s as sharp as she’s old.”

The day was promising for a nice, respectful game. The sun was peeking out from behind some late autumn clouds and the air was crisp without verging into cold. As the game, or rather, the party following the game, was one of the highlights of the student year, there was already a respectable number of spectators gathering. The entrepreneurship club from the business school had even put up a popcorn-and-mulled-wine stand, where a queue was starting to form.

The teams were warming up on opposite sides of the field with various variations of stretching, jumping jacks and otherwise athletic behaviour. All very unusual for a university – everyone knew the student body was known for being predominantly nocturnal, feeling most comfortable in either their own rooms, wrapped up in differential equations, literature reviews and integrals, or occupying the student haunts. The faculty, on the other hand, generally tried to keep as far away from them as possible, hiding in deserted lecture rooms in the early morning hours and grumbling to their colleagues about the lack of moral fibre and discipline in today’s youth.

It wasn’t that they didn’t understand what the students were tinkering with, dreaming up more intricate sets of code for a robot that fed you soup and other such attempts, but that they suspected the students didn’t know it either. The students seemed to be delighted by such strange notions as ‘the spoon hit me in the eye after ricocheting off the wall and that old bust of some dude with a wig, how _cool_ ’ which made the faculty feel old and thus filled with something of an uncharitable disposition towards the students.

The yearly football match was one of the feeble attempts made by generations past to bring these opposing groups together in an air of sportsmanship and camaraderie. Most years, it only ended in a couple sprained ankles. It was really _ages_ since someone had gotten seriously injured, several decades, yes indeed. Or multiple years, at the very least. The broken leg last year really didn’t result from the _game_ after all, it was really the party afterwards that had taken quite a wild turn, and you really can’t fault a football match for that. Even if the broken bone was a result of two defenders clashing over a penalty shot.

“Oh no,” Sanji suddenly groaned. “Brooks is playing.”

The tall skeleton was one of the more peculiar oddities on campus. According to legend, he had woken up one day, hadn’t noticed he was dead and then merrily kept on as usual, teaching the introductory courses in philosophy and history of music. Fifty years after the fact, all that remained was an animated skeleton with the most luxurious afro anyone had ever beheld.

He was also known as a mean midfielder, being both light on his feet and very creepy as he yo-ho-hoed his way towards an unsuspecting opponent. The discussion about if this counted as ‘use of a Devil Fruit’ (as forbidden by the rules, to Luffy’s chagrin) had been retired as no-one could figure out if the fact that he was alive counted as fruit use and thus the bonny bag of bones was allowed to play.

Nami didn’t play often enough to feel comfortable judging him or his playing, so she shrugged and bent down to tighten her laces.

“What are you doing on that side of the field?”

Nami looked up through her lashes, a sweet smile ready as she registered the surprised voice. “Why, hello doctor Trafalgar! I didn’t know that you planned on attending the match.” She did a double take. “And actually play? Colour me surprised indeed. That explains what things you’d do instead of _watching_ a game.”

The tall man, now clad in the faculty colours of quite creatively, yet horribly, clashing shades of blue, purple and pink as opposed to his usual shades of black, grey and the odd splotch of yellow, levelled a look at her. “Thought I’d see what kind of game you have in these parts of the world. But you didn’t answer my question. Playing for the students? And here I thought you liked to see them lose.”

Nami’s smile turned into a full-fledged grin. “Oh, my! What a misunderstanding. I _am_ a student, after all, I’m just working part-time. And I just said it’s nice to see their faces when they lose, but I never specified whose.” She fluttered her eyelashes innocently. “The students haven’t lost to faculty in the last oh, twelve years or so, after all. It is nice to see the Dean look disgruntled from time to time.” She nodded towards a large man, occupied with doing what appeared to be a series of very low lunges on the side-lines.

Law arched an eyebrow.

Nami’s smile was by now sweet enough to give any unwary spectators diabetes.

Sanji sighed and moved Nami’s bag further to the side, their game preparations complete. The newcomer had to be the current thorn in Nami’s side, judging by her overly saccharine attitude. She never used it unless she had nefarious plotting afoot, such as wrangling her favourite dinner from Sanji or making Usopp do her turn of the cleaning duties. Sanji was more than happy to accommodate her, especially as it annoyed Zoro, but he wondered what this Trafalgar dude had done to earn her wrath. He had heard about the incident at the Halloween Masquerade (as had everyone else living in Casa de Sunny. Multiple times. At length.), but he had thought her ire would have settled by now. Her early grumblings of him not reacting especially harshly to either her glitter-infused ‘Get well soon!’ card she had asked him to deliver when Bepo had taken ill with a bout of the flu, nor the onslaught of ABBA she subjected her new officemates to, had shifted into gushing over the latest theory on meteorology, courtesy of Bepo, or the occasional sigh about Trafalgar’s inability to close the door or get her coffee right.

Which was a sure-fire sign of something weird going on. Nami was particular about her coffee.

Extremely particular.

Sanji was, of course, allowed to make it for her, but otherwise she always preferred to prepare it herself. It was hard to fault her, living with two of the most tasteless humans Sanji had met as well as two people who didn’t drink coffee and thus lacked the expertise of making said beverage, but he had still found the off-hand grumble odd when he heard it one rainy Thursday afternoon.

There was also the fact that an enormous Hello Kitty-doll had taken up residence in their office, which he had noticed the last time he visited.

Sanji knew Nami. He knew her habits and ticks, her coffee-preferences and, with a sigh and small raincloud gathering over his head, her dating history. She would never have accepted the presence of a large, fluffy, stuffed animal from anyone in the Sunny, except perhaps from former-housemate Vivi. But no way in Hell a new acquaintance would get such acquiescence. He still remembered when Chopper had tried to hang a motivational poster with a kitten dangling from a piece of rope and a soft font proclaiming ‘Hang in there!’ in their kitchen. There had been Words. Nami might look soft and sweet, even act like it on occasion, but she was far from it.

Miles, even.

Leagues and fathoms.

A very, very long way away indeed.

He had to assume it had something to do with the Mink she was working with nowadays. Maybe the presence of one large, fluffy animal had desensitised her to the presence of another, although the second one being of the stuffed variety.

A shrill whistle rang through the air, gathering all attention and breaking the staring competition between Nami and Law which neither had seemed to notice as well as dispersing the cloud over Sanji’s head.

An old woman, short in stature but large in air and with a respectable set in her jaw marched to the middle of the field, holding a ball with one hand and her whistle, the probable cause of the tinnitus-inducing sound, in the other.

“I want to see a clean game this time, you lot,” the old lady began, her voice carrying over the field. “No kicks, trips, jumps, charges, strikes, pushes, tackles, tickles, holds, hands, elbows, shoulders, knees or toes. No heckling or intimidation from the sidelines–“ she sent a wry look at some of the assembled spectators who looked crestfallen as they lowered their homemade banners and a quite impressive papier mâché-lookalike of the Dean “–and _no Devil Fruits_. Have everyone with a power gotten their blockers?”

There was a chorus of ‘Yes ma’am’ at this and several peeved faces.

As Devil Fruits were deemed ‘unsportsmanlike’ in team sports, it was customary for players in several fields to don a necklace, bracelet or similar accessory adorned with a piece of seastone, small enough to inhibit their powers but not enough to curtail their movement too much.

For obvious reasons, this didn’t apply to the swim team.

Tsuru’s keen eyes found a player in the back of the student team. “You too, Eustass?”

Eustass Kid, engineering prodigy extraordinaire and the self-proclaimed love of Nami’s life until he, three weeks ago, had understood that no really was no (nowadays he was quite pleasant company, almost able to match her and Zoro drink for drink during their bouts of debauchery), nodded sullenly, fingering the piece of string adorning his broad neck. His flaming hair, almost a match for Nami’s (which hadn’t convinced her to go on a date, not even when he implored her to ‘think of the _babies_ ’) was held out of his eyes with a lime green bandana, the team t-shirt straining over well-defined pectorals. His painted nails played with the necklace as a frown drew his eyebrows together over a sharp nose, framing sharp umber eyes.

If it was only up to physical attributes, Nami would have climbed the man like a tree. Sometimes she cursed her inability to look past a total mismatch in personalities.

Last year, he had ‘forgotten’ to use the charm and had caused a small commotion as the teacher’s team insisted that he had used his powers to move their goal, while the ginger maintained his innocence. It wasn’t _his_ fault that their goal was at the wrong (or correct, depending on who you asked) place when he happened to make a goal.

In the end, no-one could prove that he had done anything wrong and thus the goal counted.

“I also have to remind you of why we’re here, as if any of you would forget. We have two teams, with their respective captains,” she pointed to Sanji and the Dean who both straightened up a bit more, “who compete to get the ball,” she held up the official match ball, “into the other team’s goal. The team with the most goals at the end of the game is the winner. I have to remind you, in light of last year’s events, that a goal has to go between the posts and under the bar from the _front_ and that the goals are counted by me. No number of additional goals will be allowed or considered. I am _not_ bribable. Not even with _that_ ,” she scowled at the Lecturer in Medieval Pottery, “and any attempts at bribery or coercion of any sort will be met with the appropriate punishment. And a penalty kick for the opposing team.”

The silver-haired lady let her shrewd gaze travel around the gathered players before nodding to herself, seemingly satisfied with what she saw.

Then she tossed the ball.

“May the odds be ever in your– WATCH IT!”

And so the game began with a flurry of movement attacking the ball as both sides joyfully jumped into the fray, not much caring about official positions or tactics.

Nami laughed out loud and ran after the ball as Sanji kicked it half a field away, Killer and Usopp’s cheers from the side-lines echoing loud and clear in the crisp autumn air. It was impossible to keep track of much of anything once the game was on.

This was _fun_.

After a very energetic first half, the score was an even two-two by half-time with the faculty having caught up to the students’ early lead.

Nami was occupied in retying her braid, having caught her breath after an intense start. The sun had disbanded the straggling clouds and an unusual November warmth had enveloped the field, exacerbated by the heated game. Her shirt felt plastered on and she wasn’t looking forward to negotiating with Sanji on the privilege of using the downstairs bathroom with the secure warm water supply after the game. She knew he’d probably give it to her if she asked, but she also knew he had to go to work afterwards and that he’d be missing most of the after-game party due to this. She might be an evil witch, as Zoro was so fond of remarking, but she was also considerate. At times.

The good mood of the game so far made a small grin spread over her face. Maybe she could wait until he was finished this once.

It really was fun to play again – she really should try to find some sort of organised sport for herself. Sanji played football and was part of the swim team, Zoro did both kendo and baseball and even Luffy had found his place in the anything-goes martial arts scene, where Devil Fruit abilities were praised. Usopp was the university’s best marksman and sweet, tiny Chopper loved pummelling his opponents in the boxing ring. After Vivi had dropped their tennis routine, Nami had been hard-pressed to find another partner and so had resorted to a weekly running schedule.

But there was something special in playing with others. She’d have to see if there was some sport she could try out during her exchange in the spring, or just wait and join a grassroots football club when she got back.

She sighed and took a swig of water, pushing the intruding futuristic thoughts aside to concentrate on the present.

The game was going well and there had been some interesting movements and trick shots performed as well as a lot of side-line cheering, Tsuru’s admonishments regarding heckling working so far. She could only hope that their team would find a second wind before the half-time was over; the faculty was better this year than they had been in ages. Her eyes narrowed as she regarded them, huddled at the other side of the field, deep in conversation.

And then she stilled, the world coming to a halt around her.

Or possibly not, but it felt like sound became muted and the air charged with something she couldn’t name or define, and that was close enough.

She had, with her little eye, spied the current bane of her existence standing on the other side of the field, a bit apart from the others roped into the faculty team, his eyes closed and head tilted back as he drank water like he was dying of thirst.

He had taken off his shirt.

Her throat was suddenly dry as the Atacama desert.

Trafalgar Law was _fit._

She could only imagine what Vivi, currently standing beside Usopp bearing a large banner with ‘KICK THAT BALL NAMI’ and ‘RUN SANJI RUN’ on it accompanied by a nice little caricature of them both, would say the next time they saw each other. She only hoped the blue-haired woman could keep it to herself during their tea with Bepo: if there was one thing she was sure of, it was that she would not, under any circumstances, discuss Law’s… physical attributes… around the pure and gentle and totally innocent polar bear.

Not that she wanted to discuss Law. At all.

But she knew that Vivi would.

And boy, was there things to discuss.

His body looked like it was sculpted from sandstone, muscles flowing as he lifted his arm to rub his face with a towel. He had several tattoos she hadn’t noticed before, being eternally hidden under his baggy clothes which also, by the way, did his body no justice whatsoever. She particularly liked the framed smiley on his chest, although the intricate swirls framing well-defined deltoids were straight up delicious. His shorts were hanging low on narrow hips, the hard planes of his stomach contracting as he moved to pick up his– no, no, no, don’t put on a shirt–

She forced herself to look away before he caught her watching.

Or staring.

Which she was.

Had been.

Would not do again.

When she peeked over her shoulder, he had joined the faculty huddle, all his clothes in their proper places. She did not consider it a shame. Not at all.

They seemed to exchange the last tactics before the second half as they broke up soon afterwards and Law got back to his bag, stretching those surprisingly shapely legs…

Damn.

She shook her head to dislodge the annoying thoughts buzzing about her head.

Why would a half-naked man have such an impact on her? She’d seen them before (there wasn’t much of a sense of propriety in the Sunny – Zoro had laughed out loud when Shirahoshi, blushing furiously, had asked about it the first time she had visited and he had barged into the kitchen, just finished showering, to ask about dinner) and although Law was a very nice-looking half-naked man indeed, he shouldn’t impact her like this.

Hell, _Zoro_ was more chiselled than that and seeing _him_ didn’t affect her at all! As was demonstrated by her chucking the newspaper at him and admonishing him for intimidating poor Shirahoshi.

But she couldn’t help her eyes swivelling back to follow the smooth movements as he stretched and – oh, damn, he was looking straight at her.

A lazy grin spread over his features as he strolled over to where she was standing, frozen in shock. That was the only explanation she had for her sudden inability to move. Never before had she cursed herself and her need to stay apart from her sweat-smelling teammates so much before. If only Sanji could read her mind now, as he seemed to do when she was feeling peckish, but no blond knight in shining armour or even slightly damp team clothes was in sight to save her from the dark-haired man, with Sanji being occupied in some innocent flirting with Vivi on the side-lines judging by her wry smile and Usopp’s rolling eyes.

She steeled herself for the inevitable critique of their playing, having no other explanation for his approaching her. Law was known for cutting (although extremely accurate) reviews, both in the office and among the student corps. She’d heard more than enough of his… choice words from Luffy after their thesis meetings.

“Nice footwork there.”

There’s a first for everything, and this was the day for Nami to be at a loss for words.

Not what she had anticipated.

At all.

“Thank you?”

“Why the suspicious face? Do you think there’s some evil plan behind my heartfelt words?”

“Knowing you, that’s just what it is. A roundabout way of startling me with an unexpected positive comment, thus making me question everything and play horribly in the second half.”

“And you think you know me,” Law asked, raising a dark eyebrow. “Didn’t know you’d been paying that much attention.”

Nami scoffed, busying her fidgeting hands with retying the end of her braid.

“We have been sharing a room for quite some time now. You’d think I’d pay at least that much attention to my officemates.”

“You do pay a tremendous amount of attention to Bepo. Thanks for that, it’s nice to see him finding some friends here.”

The rest of Nami’s words disappeared in the wind.

A compliment and a thanks from the grumpiest person in the whole of her acquaintance?

What next, pulling the rug from under her with some tawdry application of negging?

“It’s so very sad that you haven’t let the same hospitality extend to _le petit moi_. I am deeply wounded by the exclusion, you know. Hurts my feelings. If I had any, of course, but that’s neither here nor there.”

Nope. Pettiness it was.

Law gave her another lazy grin and nodded to someone over at the faculty side, making to move towards them. He lowered his voice as he passed her on his way so only she could hear him.

“My comment was heartfelt; you play extremely well for someone without much experience.”

Oh, so he _was_ negging now? She didn’t think he’d sink that low.

“And yes, you should absolutely think about that for the rest of the game. You forget, Nami-ya. I take the R out of pretty.”

She had to bite her tongue before she blurted something to contradict him on that account, fury rising in her at both his words and her inability to stop staring at the play of muscles in his back as he passed her.

Her narrowed eyes followed his unhurried steps as she finished tying her braid and flicked It over her shoulder.

She wasn’t in the habit of letting backhanded compliments get to her before and she damn well wouldn’t start now. No matter how pretty or petty the perpetrator was. Or how aware he was of his pettiness.

Tsuru’s voice rang out, giving them a couple of minutes to go before the second half began. The faculty gave each other sharp nods as they prepared for the game to commence. The students’ previous easy-going banter had quieted down, their faces set in serious lines. They were fighting for an unbroken winning streak of over a decade here and simply could not lose. A crackle of almost tangible energy spread out over the field as the players took their positions once more.

The second half was going to be brutal.

And she’d see to it that a majority of the brutality would be focused on one Trafalgar Law.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Theoretical framework:  
> For a social network to develop, it is important to communicate. Our hypothesis is that this helps network actors avoid misunderstandings, thus strengthening interpersonal bonds and developing trust. A lack of communication, or negative applications of communication strategies, can result in negative perceptions of other network actors, weakening the social bonds in the network.
> 
> Acknowledgments:  
> This chapter is dedicated to the wonderful commenters here and reviewers over on ff.net! Comments and reviews keep my muse fed and this chapter belongs to those lovely peeps who leave their words with my work :)


	5. Poor sport

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry for the long wait! On the plus side, I now know what writer's block is. We live and learn, every day.

Nami was seething.

“Can you believe that sneaky, evil, conniving, snivelling–“

“What happened?” Luffy asked, bouncing to the door in greeting. He had been so utterly bored, stuck at home with the third draft of his thesis outline for the whole day. The only upside had been his venture into interior design, realised by rearranging Zoro’s collection of bandanas.

And his current grape break.

At Sanji’s furrowed brow, he offered a grape to Nami who answered in a growl. As Luffy did not speak growl, he assumed this to be a negative.

He popped a fruit into his mouth before taking in Nami’s thunderous expression, sudden comprehension hitting him like an animated anvil with the lettering ACME on it. “You lot _lost_?”

Sanji sighed in defeat as he dropped their bags in the hall, Nami storming past them while cursing up a storm in her wake. “You could say that. We lost on penalties, but it’s the way we lost that really got to her. She thinks they cheated.”

“Cheating? Who got away with that?” Luffy asked, eyes wide in wonder. He was jealous of most people who got to participate in team sports; the eternal ray of sunshine just didn’t have the patience or attention span not to use his gomu gomu no mi-powers in a fair game, so he was out of most sports. He had, however, found unexpected success within the boundaries of no-limits martial arts.

Most opponents underestimated the short and wiry force of nature the first time they met him in the ring. It was hard to take him seriously, a carefree grin stretching his youthful features and a straw hat on his head, but most of them learned their lessons rather quickly. There was apparently something in the way he cheerfully thrashed his opponents with a jaunty ‘shishishi’ that made people sit up and take note, but not before Nami, with a head for sums and statistics, had taken them to the cleaners and back on incredible odds.

Nami, who now stomped up the stairs with enough force to rattle the windows, her bag lying abandoned on the floor. Sanji sighed and picked it up, depositing it on a nearby stool. The things he did for his Nami-swan.

“Apparently the new postdoc isn’t quite as clean as his reputation would have you think. He seems to have some kind of Devil Fruit power himself and he managed to switch out the ball from Nami with them. Or then he’s just insanely good at football and should be playing in the league, not waste his time here.” Sanji sighed again. “I have to go get ready for work; I just hope she calms down soon. I hate to see Nami-swan upset.”

Angry noises could be heard from the upstairs bathroom.

Luffy looked at Sanji, who merely shrugged dejectedly and closed the door behind him, an attempt doomed from the start. It was a door in the Sunny, after all.

 _Casa de Sunny_ , its proper name decreed one bright spring morning by a very hung-over Luffy, was a lovely Victorian townhouse, a three-story marvel clad in red brick. High-vaulted rooms with almost original mouldings, beautiful stained-glass features and decorative wooden panelling lent the space a certain atmosphere that the inhabitants enjoyed to the fullest. There was even a fireplace in the living room and a greenhouse in the small backyard, where Chopper and Usopp had set up shop: Chopper was looking at different applications of natural medicine in modern pharmacology while Usopp did something strange related to his bio-engineering degree. No-one dared to ask for more details after his last batch of green beans escaped, leaving a carnage of ripped-up tomato plants in their wake.

The only downsides of the Sunny were quite insignificant, actually, when you really thought about it. High ceilings obviously meant either high heating bills or a lot of blankets and woollen socks (or having an internal furnace, like Zoro). Original mouldings meant original plaster as well, which could consist of quite interesting materials Chopper was not to hear about under any circumstances. The roof could really have been replaced around the turn of the last century, but, as Luffy pointed out, all the cracks did provide excellent nesting-places for songbirds, providing either beautiful morning serenades or cursed squawks, depending on if you asked Usopp or Nami and what time of the day the question was posed. The backyard had been a veritable jungle before aforementioned Usopp and Luffy had attacked it with gardening shears (and returned with more scrapes and cuts than Nami would have thought possible to get from such a tiny garden). The stained-glass windows had sagging sills, exacerbating a slight problem with draught and the doors on the ground floor could not be closed all the way due to a trivial misalignment between floor and walls: the doors could usually be closed, but they tended to spring open at the most inopportune times, such as when you tried to change clothes.

The general theory was that they did it as payback. No-one knew for what.

Nami wouldn’t have changed it for the world.

But right now, nothing of the homely little quirks that made Sunny a home registered. She just needed to take a shower and try to forget about the most disagreeable, infuriating, capricious, _knavish_ –

Luffy hummed as he languidly followed the angry noises of an annoyed Nami throughout the house, eating his grapes as he went. She was always so much fun when she was riled up like this. After a nice, long shower, she’d stay fuming a little longer and vent for a bit on the blue sofa on the first floor before calming down. If she was really upset, she’d forgo the shower and go straight to her room to sulk before occupying the red sofa on the second floor instead. As she’d gone straight to the shower today, she wasn’t too terribly upset and he could be a good friend and offer her an ear for her ranting for a bit when she got out from there.

It wasn’t as if he had anything better to do, anyways. It was _hours_ until they were going to the after-match party and he didn’t really feel like working on his thesis plan right at this moment. There was a limit to how many times one could re-formulate ones methods section, after all.

Thus, he plopped down in the worn-down armchair slumped next to the aforementioned sagging and sad specimen of a sofa that had once been a deep azure blue. The young man was quite content with gazing lazily out of the pretty little window conveniently placed at head-height and waiting for Nami to get ready for her venting, every now and then eating a grape.

He didn’t have to wait long. A couple of slammed doors later, Nami appeared in comfy clothes and her head wrapped in a towel. As she had chosen the black hoodie instead of the green sweater, she was still upset, so the best course of action would probably be to nod along and listen to her.

“How can he be friends with Bepo, who’s such a lovely little furball?”

The red-head threw down the towel she used for her hair on the floor and herself on the sofa.

“I’m so waiting for them to choose a new professor for that bloody vacant position and _fix the offices_. Then Law could get back to his fancy corner office, I could get a nice new assistant to work with and I would get left alone! Especially by annoying, lanky six-foot-something, smarmy _bastards_!”

“New professor?”

“You _know_ about this! Am I the only one who even goes to the lectures and listen to the information dished out at the university we’re all presumably attending?” Nami stole a grape, ignoring the resulting half-hearted protest. “I swear I’m the only one who listens. The professorship that’s been open for who knows how long! They’ve narrowed down the list to three candidates so we should have someone there in January, according to Bepo. And speaking of Bepo–”

The armchair creaked as Luffy folded himself into the worn-down seat more comfortably, tossing Nami another grape she caught without thinking where she was laying head down on the sofa, her damp tresses spilling down on the floor.

“–and he’s so nice and considerate and he helped me immensely with my problem formulation for that project course I have with Robin. I couldn’t have done It without him. I’d probably still be stuck and I would _fail_ if Bepo wouldn’t have taken the time. Law was no help at all, just sitting silently at his desk, scowling and making those nasty little remarks about the course.”

Luffy popped another grape in his mouth.

“And!” Nami was on a roll now and nothing would stop her. “You know how he’s always at the office, from bloody sunrise ‘till the bats come out? Except that he’s not! Last week, Bepo told me that he had to take care of some administrative stuff _again_ that Law didn’t have time for, _as he was gone_! As he was in October! And he’s apparently going to be gone over the holidays as well, in just a couple of weeks! Where does he go all the time? Riddle me that!”

“Isn’t Law his first name?” Luffy asked around a mouthful of fruit.

A pair of coffee-coloured eyes narrowed at him. The fact that they were upside down did not lessen the effect, but the young man pressed on regardless. “If you dislike him, you shouldn’t be talking about him at all, right? Or at the very least, you should be calling him by his last name. That’s just common sense. First names are for friends.”

Incoherent screaming into a sofa cushion was all the answer he got.

When Nami at long last calmed down enough to discuss Luffy’s plan to sneak into the after-party (he’d been banned from that at the same time as he was banned from the football team, as well as each and every event that had anything to do with the sport, ever) and give him a couple of pointers, the sun was already on its way down, painting dark shadows on the walls. As she finally waved an exhausted good-bye to her bouncy friend, promising to think about coming to the party later on and keep her messaging apps on for the evening in the case there were any questions about the Soccer Sneak Scheme, as Luffy had named his attempt to get into the party, the house fell silent. A last ‘godbyeeeee–‘ was cut off by the heavy front door falling shut behind the rubber boy as he bounded into the twilight.

Usopp and Chopper had gone to the party straight from the match and Zoro should, if his friends at the dojo kept their word, find his way there as well after his training session ended. Sanji would make an appearance after work if he had the time and energy, which he probably would. He never skipped an opportunity to talk, flirt, dance, laugh, sing and fall madly in love with pretty women, and a party was such a perfect opportunity for all of those to occur.

Nami sighed, curling up on the sofa, the familiar scratch of uneven patchwork, courtesy of Zoro a rainy afternoon when his training had become a bit too vigorous, pressing into her thigh. The chill of the evening had started to wrap its clammy tendril around her, kept partly at bay by the quilted blanket Usopp’s long-distance girlfriend had sent him after a late cold snap last spring. The house creaked a bit as it settled down in wait of the night, a small reading lamp beside her keeping the darkness at bay.

An illuminated window on the other side of the street beckoned with its warmth and promise of a cosy evening at home. She saw the silhouette of the old couple living there moving about, one of them carrying something that looked like a a tea set past the window before the flickering of a television made her avert her eyes.

Maybe she should follow their example and just stay here, wrapped in Kaya’s handiwork, enjoying an evening at home with a good book and a cup of tea. There was nothing at the party for her and she was still too upset with everything in this rotten world to make any sort of effort.

A sharp ding broke the silence as her phone lit up with a photo of a broadly grinning Luffy. An unwitting smile tugged at the corner of her mouth. The first phase, “get to the venue” seemed to have gone according to plan.

L: I’M IN

L: i didn’t even have to do the forgot-my-wallet-thing we talekd about

L: talked

L: they just waved me in

L: very unsafe, if you ask me

L: anyone could just walk in

L: good thing that i’m a good guy

L: but what if a bad guy would have done that?

L: they really need to think about that

U: Where r u?

L: just left my coat

U: Me + C are in the bouncy castle

U: Come here

L: WHERE?

L: found a map, coming!

S: Fuck off, I still have to toil for three hours

S: I hate my life

S: Is Vivi there?

C: No, Sanji, she’s not coming. She had a date with Koza.

S: :’(

S: Nami, my love, are you in attendance yet?

L: she’s coming

N: I’ll pass tonight, sorry Luffy :(

L: you promised!

L: :((((((((((((((((((

U: He got over it fast, he’s laughing his arse off in the bouncy castle

U: He even got Kid to join him

A blurry photo flashed in the group chat, showing a laughing Luffy in the middle of a jump, Kid lying in a graceless heap at the bottom of the plastic contraption. Chopper could be seen off to one side, trying to keep his balance if the apparent flailing of his hooves were anything to go by.

Another small smile flitted over Nami’s face as she laid her phone to the side, picking up her book again. It was nice that her friends seemed to be enjoying themselves, at least. Nothing more to do than cosy up and fall into the adventures of–

Suddenly, a low groan echoed through the house, climbing up from the ground floor, creeping along her spine and twisting her heartbeat.

She had thought she was alone.

Her breath caught in her throat, Nami moved as slowly as she dared. The book and quilt were laid down, feather-light as she shifted her weight. One foot stepped lightly down on the wooden floor, the other seeking purchase a bit further out, avoiding the creaking board to the left of the sofa. Deft fingers wrapped around the bottom of the reading light, a wince marring her features as she jerked the cord loose and the plug bounced off the floor with a small thud.

Her previous life stepped into action almost unconsciously as she placed her feet carefully, listening with half an ear for the tell-tale noises of the person downstairs. Fluid movements kept her out of the light streaming into the stairwell as she gingerly picked her way down the uneven stairs before pausing, waiting with bated breath in the shadows just above the landing.

The person was moving from the back of the house towards the front. She could pick out the soft steps of someone with sure footing, although it didn’t sound like they were wearing shoes. Had they taken them off in preparation, in order to minimise the noise they were making? If she’d have to hazard a guess, and she did because the person would be in front of the stairs in approximately seven seconds, it sounded like a heavier gait. Combined with the softness of their movement, she’d hazard a guess at a well-trained male. Those weren’t great news for her, with her being on the slighter side of the feminine physique, but she could work with it.

An unnatural calm spread throughout her body as the world tilted. This was too familiar, she’d never thought she’d be back here, back in the dark, waiting for an opening–

With a shout, aimed at startling her opponent, she jumped down the stairs, lamp whistling through the air as she aimed at head height–

“What the fuck? Nami?!”

A large hand had wrapped around the lamp with remarkable speed, stopping it an inch from Zoro’s surprised face.

“What are you doing here, shouldn’t you be at the party?”

Nami clutched her chest, warmth flooding her as the world tilted back on its proper axis and her heart tried its best to beat its way out of her chest.

“ _Zoro_? What are _you_ doing here, you were supposed to go to the party straight from the dojo!”

There were still some last faint shivers racing through her veins. Would she ever be free from her past, from the ever-present suspicion and vigilance? She’d been so close to clocking _Zoro_ … of course, he was way too quick for that to ever happen, but she hadn’t noticed it was him, had thought he was an intruder, an _enemy_ …

“Ah.” Zoro had the sense to look slightly sheepish as he realised her confusion. “Apparently the dojo flooded, so we can’t train there for a while. Sorry if I forgot to mention it. I was going to go with Luffy but seems like I fell asleep. Where is he?”

“You didn’t check your phone? Luffy’s there with Chopper and Usopp already and Sanji’ll go straight from work.”

Zoro nodded, moving past her towards the door. Now she could take in his appearance, it was evident he’d been preparing to go out, only missing his jacket and shoes.

“Coming?”

The sudden question roused Nami from her thoughts, scaring off the last whisps of fear.

“What?”

“Coming to the party?”

“I’ll pass tonight.”

“All right,” he said as he shrugged on his jacket and opened the door.

“Zoro, where are you going?”

“To the party, what does it look like?”

An incredulous laugh burst from Nami’s lips, the excitement of the last five minutes finally breaking her composure.

“No, you’re not, mate.”

Zoro scoffed. “Why not?”

“Alone? Oh no, my good sir. You wait here until Luffy’s back, which shouldn’t be more than an hour or so if you call him now, or the unlikely occasion that I’m feeling inclined to go to the party. You’re not going alone. Not after what happened last time.”

“I just took a wrong turn,” the green-haired man shrugged. “I’ve never been to Belgium, Brussels is an easy city to get lost in.”

“Zoro, it took a week for you to find your way back. And we were in the Czech Republic, not Belgium. I’m still wondering about how you ended up there.”

“I wouldn’t have gotten lost if someone,” narrowed eyes focused on Nami, “hadn’t stolen my phone.”

“I only took it to prevent it from happening! And you still managed to get lost!”

“So you admit that it was your fault I got lost in Brussels?”

“The rest of us were in Prague and I have no idea how you ended up half a continent away! And wait a minute, are you talking back to me?”

She was incredulous. Shocked. Even perplexed.

“Well, yes. That is generally how a conversation goes, you know.”

Nami groaned, clutching her head in trembling hands, trying to find her centre and not kill Zoro right this moment, thank you very much. As it didn’t seem to help to clutch at her head, she dropped into a nearby armchair, and buried her face in a cushion. Then she screamed until she felt better.

“On a normal day, I’d tend to agree with you,” her voice came muffled, the woman having opted to keep her grip on the cushion as not to throw it at her so-called friend. “But this, my pal, is definitely not a conversation.” She raised her head to be better able to glare at Zoro. “This is a lecturing, or even a haranguing. I’d even go so far as nagging. This is me telling you that you are so utterly in the wrong, and from now on forbidden from ever going out on your own again.”

Zoro matched her glare.

“You can’t tell me what to do.”

Nami upped her glare with a raised eyebrow.

“Zoro, if the Czech-cum-Belgian mystery wasn’t enough, you have also managed to get lost in IKEA.”

“It’s large and confusing!”

“There are actual arrows on the floor telling you which way to go.”

“I follow them! I always follow them, but they never lead me where I want to go.”

Nami sighed, easing on her death grip on the cushion. It wouldn’t do to deplete all of them in one evening.

She had no energy to go to a party where everyone and -thing would remind her of their loss. And cheating, manipulative, _shrewd_ – she cut of the thought before her earlier anger returned, focusing on her green-haired companion instead.

A weary sigh was the only sound in the dark hallway.

“Fine, I’ll take you.”

As she was no slouch, it took Nami approximately two shakes of a dead lamb’s tale to get ready and usher Zoro out the door while trying simultaneously to figure out where to deposit him once at the party.

N: Bringing the Lost Boy. Where are you?

U: Wondered where he was. Thought he’d be on his way to Paris or something

Z: dude

Z: i’m not that lost

U: One word, mate

U: Brussels

Z: THAT WAS ONE TIME

C: Nami, when will you be arriving?

N: In 20

N: Where are you guys?

U: Left Luffy in the bouncy castle, Chopper got queasy

C: I DID NOT!

C: It was just the right time for me to leave

U: Neither too early nor too late?

C: Precisely the time I intended

N: You’re such dorks

U: And still you know exactly what we’re talking about, miss über-dork

N: Where are you at?

U: Dorkmaster

C: We’re at the dance game thing

N: I’ll find you

U: It’s no use resisting, Darth Dork

N: Fuck off Usopp

U: Aye aye Captain Dorkface!

Sometimes Nami wondered if she could survive without her phone. Or her friends.

Maybe she should try.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aim:  
> to explore the feelings of loss and anger over said loss in a competitive setting
> 
> Method:  
> a descriptive narration


	6. Sort of port

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter includes a tiny smidgeon of canon-typical violence, if that's not your cup of cha.

People ground against each other in the murky darkness, the air thick with the pure energy of hundreds of people having the time of their life. Bright lights cut sporadically through the darkness, illuminating the scene in brief bursts before casting everything back into the safety of shadows and the haze of alcohol, hanging heavy in the air and probably making all attendees drunk just by breathing the fumes. The bone-pounding thumping of the bass shook Nami to her core, rattling loose her earlier misgivings of attending the post-game party.

This could actually be somewhat fun.

Usopp’s directions, filled with more and more spelling mistakes the longer the evening wore on, guided her to a somewhat secluded corner filled with different types of party games; everything from Jenga to beer pong to arrow-hopping dance maniacs could be found here. Chopper was surprisingly good at the last one and was currently surrounded by a crowd of people cheering him on as his hooves flew from arrow to arrow in perfect sync with the beat.

“Nami!”

A joyous shout greeted her and Usopp fell around her shoulders, trapping her with his gangly arms and a beer threateningly close to spilling down the back of her hoodie. Zoro, who’d followed her with a minimal amount of fuss so far, took the opportunity to vanish into the crowd in search of something to drink.

Oh well, she’d done her duty by bringing him here. He was now at the venue and out of her hands, thus becoming someone else’s headache. Preferably Luffy’s.

A beer materialised before Nami as Rebecca, rosy-cheeked and giggling, appeared from the Chopper-chanting crowd and brought with her the nectar of the gods and drinking choice of the evening.

“Good party so far?” Nami asked, gratefully catching the proffered drink.

“Amazing!” Rebecca laughed, eyes shining with merriment and wonder. The girl had recently started her studies and this was her first official university party, except for the fresher shindig that no-one ever had any recollections from anyway.

Nami did not envy her early morning lecture on the morrow. Not one bit. Been there, done that, got the scars to prove it, thank you very much.

“Hear, hear!” Usopp tried to clink his glass with Rebecca’s in approval and looked slightly put-out that his plastic cup only managed to produce a dull ‘thud’.

But the upset was short-lived as the wiry man shrugged and tightened his grip around Nami’s shoulders, a very grave air unexpectedly falling over him.

“Nami, I have a question.”

Nami donned her serious face to match his mien, throwing her own arm around his waist to keep her balance. “Usopp, I am ready to hear this conundrum.”

He squinted at her multisyllabic formulation, his present state more suited to tiny words.

And then he overcame the obstacle of vocabulary selections, took a deep breath, puffed out his cheeks and squinted in an honest effort to focus on his companion.

“Borrow or rob?”

Nami could but stare. And considered dumping him in a ditch somewhere. Let bygones be bygones. Her past was in the past and should preferably stay there.

Whatever had brought up her less than savoury choices of yore?

“What?”

“You heard me. Borrow or rob?”

“I have absolutely no idea what you want me to do with this.”

“Nami, Nami, Nami. You–” Usopp paused to wave a very wobbly finger in her face seriously, “–can’t tell a soul about this.”

“No-one I know will care,” Nami answered both his question and his gesture, equally seriously and with more grace, her finger wobbling only slightly due to the strain of keeping Usopp standing. “They already know.”

“They know?” Usopp’s expression was something to treasure for a moment, his whole face falling in sadness. And yet, he managed to focus his gaze somewhere behind Nami’s ear, which was a feat indeed as he was leaning on it. “They know that…taco cat spelled backwards is… still… taco cat?”

And all possibility of a nice, calm, evening disappeared like mist in the morning, like test scores after a heavy night of drinking, and like Nami’s hope for the future.

Usopp had found that sweet spot in his intoxication where palindromes were the best thing since sliced bread.

Borrow or rob, indeed.

If she didn’t get him sober, he’d soon sink to puns.

“I really don’t know what to do with this information,” she said.

“Do they also know…”

Nami waited in trepidation.

“…that dog food lid spelled backwards is dildo of God?”

“I… don’t know what to do with this information either.”

“Oh, you’re doing palindromes?” A delighted Rebecca appeared once more from the fandom surrounding Chopper who had just crushed his last opponent and was now blushing furiously at the praise showering him. “Sanji taught me one! I think it goes… ‘Tu l'as trop écrasé, César, ce Port Salut’.” The girl stumbled over the last words and dissolved in a fit of giggles, hanging from Nami’s arm.

Chopper, newly emerged dance game master, stared in wonderment. “What does that mean?”

“That Roman emperors should be more careful with their cheeses,” Nami sighed. Sanji’s other favourite palindrome involved waking Usopp up by hollering ‘Esope reste ici et se repose!’ approximately half an inch from his ear.

“What’s Port Salut?”

“Well, it’s sort of port, but not quite,” Usopp snickered. “And Caesar should know that if you want to reach Port-Salut and enjoy some port with your welcoming salute, it is ab-salutely necessary you keep port when de-porting Portsmouth.”

Nami would punt him up the river without a paddle if he didn’t soon expunge his punitive punchlines.

“Port and starboard,” Chopper giggled. “Hoist the sails, Portsmouth in the rear!”

The young doctor still had some work to do on his punning abilities, it would seem.

“Ahoy, ahoy, Captain Dorkface!” Usopp joined in, throwing up a mock salute for good measure, beaming at an increasingly irate Nami.

Russet eyes narrowed dangerously. She might have a healthy appreciation for fantasy and classics, such as, just to take a totally random example straight out of the blue, _Lord of the Rings_ , but her crew knew what she thought of being called a dork.

At least out in public.

“Usopp, if there is something good in this world left fighting for, and more importantly, _you want to live to see the good things,_ you will never, ever say that out loud again.”

Usopp merely grinned at her threatening tone before hunching over and wringing his hands theatrically.

“Usopp promises to Nami, promises faithfully! Never come again, never speak, no never!”

“Captain Dorkface?” A deep rumble behind her made her tense up. “And what _have_ you done to make the poor man cover like that?”

Nami froze.

Surely not.

Surely such a man would absolutely not deign to attend the after-game party. Not the king of glowering looks and barely concealed disdain for revelry and merrymaking and general debauchery.

He couldn’t be here, not in this den of sin and students who were so plastered they could start their own construction business.

Auditory hallucinations were known to occur in stressful situations. She was just imagining things and it was probably just Kid who had quite a deep voice and it just couldn’t be the one person she really, really didn’t want to meet tonight.

But when she turned around to face the interloper, she came face to chin with one Trafalgar Law.

“Captain Cheater,” she greeted him, fighting to keep her voice level.

Why was it that the man managed to fill her with such… conflicting emotions? His cheating ways infuriated her (and impressed her a little; not many people got past old Tsuru’s hawk eyes) and his lazy grin made weird things happen to her stomach, flipping it around like that. The way his shirt stretched over surprisingly broad shoulders made her remember the afternoon’s delight of seeing him with his shirt half off and she had to dunk herself in a mental ice bucket to get her brain back on track.

He was infuriating and wily and too clever by half and so very pretty. The way his eyes seemed to dance in the flickering light that also somehow drew out a shade of blue in his hair that she was sure wasn’t visible in the harsh fluorescent light of their office. A confident half-smirk played around his lips that were just begging for her to first bite and then soothe with her tongue and _she really had to get her mind out of this gutter right now_.

Remember his horrible personality. Remember how he makes Luffy sigh and how his friendship with Bepo was his only redeeming quality.

“My, my. Whatever died and made you queen of the crabs?”

Amber eyes narrowed in a way that would have made her friends run for the hills.

Law, however, was not her friend and thus merely stood his ground.

“You cheated.”

“I have no idea what you mean.”

“I have no idea what kind of fruit powers you have, but you used them today. No-one who’s not a professional player is that good with a ball. Ergo, you cheated.”

The sly half-smile spread over his whole face creating the most adorable dimple she hadn’t noticed before.

Those lips were made for so much more than delivering condescending comments and patronising presentations…

Nami shook the thought loose. Focus.

“Are you calling me a player?”

Nami blinked.

She… deserved that one.

“I am calling you a cheater, make of that what you will.”

“I would never.”

“Say what you want, I know what I saw.”

He regarded her for a moment, head tilted to the side, face neutral.

“Let me ask you, then… did you see something like this during the game?”

A sudden blue glow enveloped them and Nami found her empty glass being switched with a full one. She could take a stab at its origins, as a great commotion was heard from half a cavernous room away, followed by Kid’s unmistakeable bellow of ‘Who the FUCK took my beer?’.

Nami could only stare, dumbfounded for a moment, before her eyes narrowed once more.

She had heard about many Devil Fruit powers (and lived with one of the simultaneously most annoying and most hilarious ones in existence) and had read up on the rest of them.

Everyone knew there was only one active user of a specific power at a time, the ability going back into circulation after the owner’s death. Everyone who knew anything also knew that there was a register of current active users that had been instituted after the commotion surrounding a very public incident involving a mob boss called Whitebeard. Nami didn’t know much about the events leading up to the clash between law enforcement and the Whitebeard syndicate, except for some conflicting online rumours, but for the past decades, all fruit users had to register themselves or face the consequences.

And one Trafalgar Law was missing from any of the official registers.

“The Ope-ope no mi.”

Law raised an impressed eyebrow.

“Not many know that right off the bat.”

“Not many read as much as I do. So you admit that you cheated.”

“I never admitted to anything of the sort, just that I have fruit powers.”

The speed with which he had intercepted her earlier that day, the ball just vanishing from her feet…

“Fuck off, Law, either you cheated or then the football world is missing a major talent.”

A casual shrug followed her outburst. “Maybe I’m just that good, ever thought of that?”

The blue sheen was still hanging over them like a blanket, distorting their environment like clingfilm. It didn’t do anything to muffle the sounds of the party surrounding them but did lend everything a weird blue tint.

The enveloping heat and beat were pressing down on Nami, focusing her world on the golden glint in Law’s eyes; those clever eyes that were clearly mocking her.

“Ever thought of getting lost?”

“Not very polite or proper to answer with a counter-question.”

“I’ve never claimed to be a polite or proper lady.”

An unimpressed expression met her declaration. “Yes, you did. Last week, during the coffee break where Vivi blamed you for stealing her tea.”

Nami could but stare. She remembered the incident but hadn’t really paid attention to Law more than noting his presence in the room. Vivi had, quite rightfully, blamed Nami for stealing the last of her tea and although both knew what had really happened, Nami had kept up the charade and claimed both innocence and well-bred manners, a smile tugging at her mouth the whole time Vivi scolded her with laughter in her eyes.

-_-_-

It had taken him a while to recognise her.

In the office, she usually dressed in work-appropriate clothes or buried herself in a mountain of jumpers, due to the temperature of their shared room. He hadn’t seen her much around campus and so couldn’t judge her normal wardrobe beyond that.

But if it was anything like what she was wearing tonight, he was going to pay a lot more attention in the future.

His journey of appreciation started with her boots. Black, practical and a little worn, but still managing to highlight apparently endless legs that led up to the shortest skirt he had ever seen: if she bent down, there would undoubtedly be A View and probably some accidents around, judging from the interested glances thrown her way from the surrounding crowd of people. A dark hoodie, something he normally considered a lumpy and unattractive piece of clothing, seemed to hug curves he had not noticed properly before the football match earlier in the day. Her bright hair, spilling over her shoulders, shimmered like spun gold in the flickering light, the normal hues of flaming orange and an almost luminous red dancing from the deepest bronze to a luminous shade of honey. And her eyes… he could drown in those eyes, if he wasn’t careful. They shimmered like his favourite coffee blend, the treasured wake-up call that made his days bearable.

If he were to compare her to a summer’s day, it would have been one of the scorching days of high summer when the sun beat down on unsuspecting victims, parching throats and making all desperate for a quick dip in some ice-cold water.

And her body didn’t hold a candle to the brilliance that was her mind and personality.

She was one of the smartest people of his acquaintance. The quality of her work was impressive, as was the logic of her arguments. He had come to enjoy their casual exchanges, her tongue becoming sharper and her growing bolder the longer their acquaintance grew. She never had any problems following his train of thought, countering his theories with well-formulated remarks and expanding on half-baked thoughts with intricate insights, easily combining their separate fields of study.

_Something_ was curling behind his ribs, sending shocks down his spine when she moved and a fresh, citrusy smell filled his nostrils.

With a start, Trafalgar Law realised the trouble he was starting to dip his toes in. If he wasn’t careful, she could become a real problem.

Her voice interrupted his thoughts and he refocused on her, catching the tail end of a comment regarding the fruit user registry. If he was this distracted, maybe the time had come for him to depart for the safety of his apartment.

The only logical thing was to appreciate her beauty and brilliance at a distance and then lock all those pesky sprouts of feelings up in a little box and never think about them again.

-_-_-

If she wasn’t utterly convinced that he was physically incapable of such paltry things, Nami would have sworn Law just spaced out. She exchanged a bewildered look with Usopp who had straightened and sobered up a notch at the sight of Law’s Devil Fruit demonstration, looking wide-eyed at the older man.

“Fine, don’t tell me why you’re missing from the registry. I’ll figure it out myself.”

He shook his head as if dislodging a thought and the blue dome flickered out of existence.

“Good luck with that,” he said with a indolent smile. “Let me know when you have it.”

With a last withering look at her colleague, Nami grabbed Usopp by the scruff of his neck and stormed off.

But the night had lost its flavour after the encounter.

No matter how daring Luffy’s somersaults in the bouncy castle became or how many beers she downed with Zoro and Kid, her whole vibe was off. Not even the arrival of Sanji, whose flirting and heartfelt compliments usually did the trick in lifting her spirits, could help.

And Law’s words kept niggling at her. She was so sure he had cheated. His game had been so smooth, his footwork so quick. But there had been no blue light in sight and no supernatural exchanges she could remeber.

She just couldn’t get a grip on the man. What did he want?

With a final drained gesture to her friends, she shrugged on her jacket and took her leave, directing her tired steps towards the exit, declining Sanji’s offers of walking her home in the process. She didn’t want to drag him from the party when he’d just arrived, not for just a couple of blocks.

If it would have been Zoro, she would have handcuffed them together and damn the consequences, but she possessed a sliver of navigational skills and could thus find her own way home.

“I’ll be fine,” she called, waving goodbye over her shoulder. “Usopp, I’m counting on you to keep Luffy and Zoro in line.”

The panicked protestations of her friend who was in way over his head with their two housemates was lost in the general party din.

Nami sighed, a weariness filling her very bones. This was all too confusing.

She just wanted to go home.

The cold night air hit her like a wall as she stepped outside, forcing her to wrap her arms around her in an effort to keep warm. When she’d left the Sunny earlier, she’d still been running hot from her encounter with Zoro but now the chill of the night had permeated the whole world.

Maybe a denim jacket wasn’t the warmest thing to wear in November.

Unhurried steps retraced their earlier journey, taking her over the small square outside the party venue, past the fudge shop and further towards the river.

She liked nights.

The world seemed so at peace then, no-one running around or demanding her attention or help or advice or presence. Darkness was much easier on the eyes than the piercing light of day, although she did enjoy sunshine and bright days as well. In moderation. And in the distance.

Gingers burned so very easily in the sun.

But there was something soothing about nights. Stars shining above, a relaxed quiet filling the whole world with the sound of silence.

Except that the silence around her had been interrupted by soft steps behind her for the last couple of blocks, give or take a side street.

Her heartrate picked up as she fought to keep her gait unhurried. It didn’t do to reveal that she’d noticed her pursuer. If she could just get a few streets ahead, there was a nice little alley next to the bridge she could disappear in, flanked by some backyards just made for vanishing tricks.

But as she turned the corner, she realised she was out of time.

A large man was lounging against the wall under a flickering streetlight and the one behind her had increased their pace significantly.

How very theatrical. No-one serious would play out such a tableau; they would get their target in a dark place without witnesses and with minimal lighting. And this told her two things: one, this situation was planned, and two, she had some time. Theatrical people loved to make their victims talk, so she had a few moments extra to work with.

She had made do with less before.

She also had a third suspicion: she was probably just in the wrong place at the wrong time. If they had targeted her specifically, they would not want to give her any extra time to think.

And that made them pitiable fools indeed.

“Got a light?” the lounging man asked her, not even bothering to take out a cigarette. He ran his eyes over her appreciatively.

“I don’t, I know what’s bad for my health,” she answered with a saccharine smile. Her skirt was short and her legs were long, a fact the lounging man seemed to appreciate very much indeed.

She’d show him how high than enabled her to kick.

“Come on love, don’t be like that. Give us a grin,” the man who had followed her said in a wheezy voice as he stepped out in the light. The voice suited his general complexion, his pointed face and ashy hair putting her in mind of a ferret.

“How about it, girlie?” the first man said, leering at her. “We’ll have some fun.”

A glance thrown towards the alley made her refocus her attentions – slight movements caught in the still night air, visible only as the slight shifting of shadows and audible only to someone listening for them. A third little piggy, probably.

“We’ll get along nicely,” a raspy voice crept out of the shadows to her right. Nami tensed. A third little piggy indeed. Three against one was not good odds, but she’d done with worse…

“Let’s just take her,” a soft voice from behind her made shivers creep up her spine. “Boss could get a good price for her.”

A fourth one.

And she hadn’t heard him at all.

There were four of them.

And one of them good enough to shroud himself completely.

Oh, fuck.

The lounger and the wheezer were now in front of her, blocking her path forward. To her right, a raspy one. Slight movements betrayed a jittery personality – he didn’t have much patience. What made Nami pause was the one behind her, the soft-voiced creep who could move silently and thus knew how to do these things properly.

And that meant trouble.

To her left, the river cutting through town made escape difficult, but not impossible. Her hand came up to play with the cords of her hoodie in an apparent gesture of nervousness as she surveyed her situation.

The first attack would probably come from either the large lounger or the wheezing rat. Raspy and Creepy, as she had dubbed the unseen ones, were hopefully there mainly for support, not for actual hand-to-hand engagement. If they were, they wouldn’t have made themselves known – they wanted her to realise she was outnumbered and to come with them with as little fuss as possible. So, probably supporting troops, not the main cavalry.

The three thugs she had initially identified were easy. She fluttered her eyelashes theatrically, for all the world looking like an innocent maiden, anxious about being out and about by herself. She could already see the appreciative stares of the two in front of her as she nibbled her lip in a way she knew drove most men crazy – she had practiced to get it just right.

But the one behind her kept her from reaching for her bō staff, kept securely tied to her upper thigh, or into her pocket to call for help.

“I just want to go home,” she said, letting a tremor enter her voice. It didn’t take much, she was loath to admit: the situation did not look good at all. She let her weight fall on one hip, hand cupping her cheek in an obviously helpless gesture.

“There’s a lot of things I want and I still won’t get them,” the lounger said.

“I know one thing I want,” the ferrety man leered at her, taking a step closer. “The boss won’t care for a few marks on the goods. Especially if they heal easily.” Another step took him almost in her range. “How about we try her out first?”

The chill in Nami’s spine froze to ice at the easy suggestion of violence and brutality.

Oh, fuck indeed.

“How about it, love? I think I’ll make you scream.”

“Oh, please sir, just let me go home,” Nami whimpered. “I promise I won’t tell anyone about this.” A hesitant half-step backwards, and her weight was almost completely on her left foot. Perfect.

A repulsive smile spread over the ferret’s face as he stepped toward her. She waited until he was close enough for the rancid stench of old beer and sweat to fill her nose before she eased her stance and slammed her right knee up between his legs, taking a brief moment to savour the moment of connection.

The man fell to the ground with a whimper. And then she was on the move.

A skip forward brought her next to the lounger, standing stunned by the sudden change in her demeanour and a quick swipe of her foot coupled with a well-directed upward stroke of the heel of her palm sent him tumbling to the ground, blood pouring from a freshly broken nose. A kick to the head kept him down. The Rasper was quicker on the uptake than his colleagues, but she ducked under an outreached arm and smashed her elbow into his ribs, hitting him behind his ear for good measure before slamming her heel into his stomach, forcing him to join his comrades on the ground.

She twirled around, coming face to face with Creepy.

And she froze.

Close, far too close, stood a young man, clear blue eyes shaded by hair the shade of summer wheat. A bright smile graced his seraphic face. He was a hair shorter than her, hands stuck in the pockets of a dark grey hoodie.

He couldn’t have been older than fifteen.

And then he moved faster than she’d seen anyone move and her arm was wrenched behind her. A sharp cry tore from her at the sudden pain shooting up through her shoulder.

“The boss doesn’t care for easily healed marks, but I think we’ll take you as you are,” he laughed in her ear, his voice cheerful and oh, so young. “You seem like you’ll be too much for this lot to break in.”

Nami tried to squirm out of the lock but the young man twisted her arm further, forcing her to bend backwards. His other hand grasped her exposed throat, keeping her in place as her stance forced her down, head almost resting on his shoulder.

Nami had never been so scared in her life.

She had stolen and lied and scammed much larger people than this, but she had never been so utterly terrified.

No smart people were out this late in the evening (or early in the morning, depending on your point of view) and of course the young man had managed to get the side she had her phone on – she couldn’t very well reach her phone without him noticing.

She’d just have to break the first rule of kidnapping victims and go with him to the secondary location. And hope that she’d figure something out in the meantime.

“Let’s just play nicely, shall we?” he whispered in her ear before he gave her arm another jerk for emphasis, giggling at her pained cry.

“Hey!”

A loud voice echoed down the street.

Nami couldn’t turn around to see who had arrived in the literal nick of time, but the displeased grimace she saw from the corner of her eye confirmed that it wasn’t thuggish backup. Running steps could be heard in the distance as her captor tried to turn without losing his grip on her.

A blue sheen enveloped them.

And suddenly she was on the other side of the street, propped up by a strong arm around her waist, while the blond boy found himself clutching a stick. Her head whirled at the sudden warmth enveloping her; a warmth that smelled like vanilla and sandalwood. A twitch of her saviour’s free hand and the young man disappeared, replaced by a small stone. A far-off splash suggested that he’d become intimately acquainted with the river.

And as Trafalgar Law loosened his grip on her, Nami stumbled forward as gracefully as a duck on roller-skates, barely keeping her balance.

“Are you all right?”

Her heart felt like it tried to beat its way out of her chest as she tried to gather her scattered wits. “I’m fine.” She winced as the receding adrenaline made way for a throbbing burn in her shoulder. A warm hand wrapped around her arm, keeping her in place.

“I’ll be the judge of that. Keep still.” Law took her arm in a surprisingly gentle grip and moved it this way and that, reminding Nami of how her mother would look her over when she came home with scraped knees after a tumble.

His warm hands were steady and mild in their movements, methodical and confident in their path, noting her reactions to the slightest touch. But as she watched him through her lashes, she noticed the jarring difference between his actions and his expression.

Law appeared outwardly calm in the cold streetlight, but the hard lines of his mouth betrayed a tension in him she hadn’t seen before. And there was something familiar about the glint in his eyes; an almost feral, visceral anger she knew far too well herself.

After a minute or two he let go of her arm. “Your shoulder might be a bit sore for a few days, but nothing seems broken or dislocated.”

A short and extremely uncomfortable silence fell upon the pair.

It was a long time ago she had been so scared. If Law hadn’t turned up… Nami shook her thoughts lose once more and forced a smile. “Thank you. For the check-up. And, well… everything.”

Law shrugged, hands disappearing into his pockets. “I was just on my way home when I heard voices. Thought I’d better see what was going on.”

The three men she had felled were still down, either unconscious or taking the smart option of playing dead.

“You want to report this?”

“No.” The answer left her instinctively, her hindbrain deciding on the proper course of action before she had time to think.

He looked at her for a moment before giving a sharp nod.

Nami was surprised. She had expected him to demand she’d go to the police and that the situation would only be resolved by her storming off after a deafening shouting match.

She had not anticipated his acceptance.

She also hadn’t anticipated that Law would fall in step with her and walk her home.

It wasn’t before they reached the corner of Nami’s street that either spoke.

“Thanks,” Nami said, arms still wrapped around herself. She hadn’t been able to stop the shivers racking through her. It was a long time since she had felt so vulnerable and if Law hadn’t appeared–

She shuddered.

Law regarded her with a thoughtful look. “No problem. You’re sure your arm is all right?”

Nami shrugged her shoulder gingerly, wincing at the soreness. “Hurts like hell, but it should be fine in a few days.”

“If you say so.”

Nami gave a tired smile. “Actually, it’s you who says so.”

Law merely shook his head at that.

“And the police–“

“No.”

“All right,” was all he said.

She considered him then for a moment.

If someone had told her she’d be walking home with Trafalgar Law a week, or even an hour ago, she’d have called them delusional.

And yet, here she was, standing with him in the flickering light of a streetlamp.

Dark clothes rendered him almost invisible in the half-light, hands hidden in the deep pockets of his coat and a scarf Nami could sworn was the result of Bepo’s magical knitting hiding all but his face. His eyes were barely visible in the deep shadow cast by the fluffy cap on his head. A light breeze ruffled the strands of dark hair peeking out from under the rim, the general impression of ‘unkempt academic’ completed by a carefully curated look of shaggy sideburns and goatee framing a sharp jaw.

If she was honest with herself, she’d have to admit that Vivi was right; he was very handsome. And combined with the peek she’d had of the rest of him earlier in the day, she thought she would have been in some trouble, if not for her utter dislike of him as a person.

But here he was, her actual saviour in need. He had even walked her home to make sure she got home safe and sound. And he didn’t even try to persuade her to go to the authorities with what had happened, when most people in his situation would have dragged her kicking and screaming to the police.

With a last searching look at her, he turned and disappeared into the night.

And Nami could but stare after the man, confusion trickling through her veins.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Results: “represents the core findings of a study derived from the methods applied to gather and analyze information. It presents these findings in a logical sequence without bias or interpretation from the author, setting up the reader for later interpretation and evaluation in the Discussion section” according to Wordvice (https://wordvice.com/writing-the-results-section-for-a-research-paper/)
> 
> In context: if a results section is illogical or badly structured, the reader cannot follow the author’s process and the validity of the paper should thus be questioned.


	7. Class is a state of mind

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to a lovely comment on ff.net after the last chapter, I just had to include a snippet of Law’s POW. Enjoy!

Law watched Nami over the rim of his coffee cup.

The redhead was seated at her desk, buried over her head in some administrative duties that accompanied the approaching holiday season.

If she wasn’t careful, the towering pile, precariously balanced on the edge of her table, would topple.

Law had given her ten minutes from the moment she staggered into the room with the mountain of paperwork and dumped the papers on her desk, but she was still going strong half an hour later. He’d have to revise his estimate.

The woman had a way of surprising him.

When he started, she had been just another admin assistant. Pretty to look at and helpful as well, but too interested in the latest pop charts and office gossip. And apparently in possession of a weird obsession with stuffed animals, if the gigantic Hello Kitty-doll, coterie of tiny hedgehogs and a lone narwhal that had found their way to their office was something to judge by.

But then she befriended Bepo. And a completely new side of the woman appeared, like the answers to a pop quiz after you’ve taken it.

She didn’t show it to Law, of course. But he and Bepo did share a flat.

Apparently, the woman was kind and funny during their biweekly tea appreciation sessions and much less of an airhead than either of them had anticipated. He had already noticed her brains, but when Bepo started to gush about her compassionate nature, it was hard to ignore.

Mainly because he did it so very often.

It did not help when Law asked him to change the topic.

Mainly this was because, as he’d noticed lately: whatever he did, or whatever Bepo said, he just couldn’t forget what she looked like when she dressed in something else than office-appropriate wear.

This unfortunate realisation had spilled over on seeing her in a new light in office-appropriate wear as well, making it extremely awkward for him to get up from his desk when she was bending over her desk or trying to reach something from the higher shelves.

When he’d heard a scared voice from that alley all those weeks ago on his way home, he had become wary – that late in the evening people should be on their way to either the local midnight food stall serving dubious hotdogs and falafels, or alternatively the safety of their homes. People should not emit high-pitched noises in streetscapes more suited for a film noir.

He had approached cautiously, phone ready to call for the police. Just in case.

But when he recognised the shade of red in the cold light of the streetlamps, his blood had run cold and his heart had simply stopped beating. Which would have been concerning in any other situation, but then and there he had no attention for anything else than what was happening down the road.

He had been impressed by her rapid response and the quick way she downed three of her assailants. But the odds were not in her favour, the fourth one too much to tackle alone.

And then she was struggling in their grasp.

He hadn’t even started to think when his legs decided to start running on their own, some forgotten part of his brain calling up a room as he flew over the cobblestones. His heart had been trying to beat its way out of his ribcage, filling his throat in the process and if he’d have any attention to spare from the scene in front of him, the irregularities of said heart would have been concerning indeed.

He knew he could get her out of the thugs grasp with his powers, but he had no idea, not the slightest inkling, of what would follow.

And he always, _always_ had a plan.

A broken branch was scooped up and exchanged with the woman as soon as he got in range. She was warm and heavy in his grip, her fear evident in the coil of her spine and clutch of her hand on his arm. The only thing he knew was that her attacker should be as far away as his room allowed him to dump them, the resulting distant splash utterly satisfying and soothing his rapidly beating heart and clammy hands.

When he calmed down and started checking her injuries, he became aware of her strumming pulse – she had been terrified.

Which made her somehow more human.

Before that night, she had just been a woman in the office, helpful and positive and energetic like a bloody sunbeam. Now, she was more than a two-dimensional fixture who ceased to exist when he shut the office door – she was suddenly a person, an individual in her own right, she was _Nami_. Someone with tangible fears and possibly some sort of hopes for the future and things he had learned a long time ago not to think about or yearn for himself.

The walk back to her place was more than tense and awkward. It was downright torturous. And he understood her reluctance to go to the police – what could they do? Nothing, in his experience. He’d still sent an anonymous tip about the thugs she had taken down when he left her standing at her door; modern IT was good for something at least. There was little chance that they’d still be laying in the street, but maybe his tip would make the police patrol the area a bit better, if nothing else.

Bepo had looked askance at him when he got home and dropped down on the sofa, totally wrung out. He’d brought him a blanket and then refused to go away.

Of course, Law had eventually given in to the Mink’s subtle questions and barefaced demands to know what had happened.

And now here she was, typing away at her computer, looking cool as a cucumber.

Law shook his head, sighing, trying to derail his current train of thought. Maybe he should decrease his coffee intake if he kept going down memory lane like this. It probably wasn’t very healthy to drink as much as he did.

Scratch that; he _knew_ ten cups of coffee a day was terribly unhealthy.

Maybe he should take it down a notch and try to survive on eight.

A slight movement over on Nami’s side of the room caught his eye and he watched dreamily as the topmost papers in her pile started to slide down in slow motion, dragging the underlying papers with them in their merry descent, causing a chain-reaction in their wake.

Nami swore as the head high pile of papers tumbled down in mockery of the snowfall they almost could have enjoyed last week, if it wouldn’t have melted away en route down from the sky.

And Law couldn’t help but smile at her surprisingly creative string of expletives, followed by the thump of her head hitting her desk.

-_-_-

After the peculiar disturbance of the space-time continuum, a tentative détente established itself between Nami and Law. Neither spoke of the incident and as the tenderness of Nami’s shoulder faded, so did her resentment.

But the post-game night had left its marks.

Nami increased the length and pace of her morning runs and even cajoled Rebecca into joining her for a few rounds of tennis, all in the name of building her stamina. Zoro was bullied into helping her practice breaking out of locks and defending against attacks, and Usopp promised to help make her both something that would let her defend herself and access her phone easily but still wouldn’t be too obvious. And preferably not too shiny. Or bulky. And matching her outfits.

Usopp had stared at her long and hard before groaning and locking himself in the garden shed for the rest of the day.

But life went on, as life is wont to do.

Something had shifted between her and Law and made it feel… wrong… to act as syrupy as she had when he and Bepo arrived. And so no-more overtly bubbly pop-songs broke the silence of their shared office, the stuffed animals were relegated to a shelf above Bepo and Nami even cancelled the beautiful Christmas-themed decorative figurine of Santa Claus waltzing with Rudolph, playing ‘All I want for Christmas is you’ she had ordered online.

There seemed to be a change in Law’s demeanour as well; although he had always been silent, only interrupting her and Bepo’s discussions to correct either of them on some theoretical point or methodological aspect, he became even more withdrawn, barely thanking her for coffee or asking if she wanted a refill.

Bepo appraised the situation, analysed the actors and then kept his conclusions to himself, merely giving a resigned sigh whenever the two humans interacted.

As days shortened and Mother Nature made a sad attempt at a seasonal snow covering, destined to melt before it even touched the ground, they found their rhythm. Coffee runs continued with minimal conversation and the tea parties she, Vivi and Bepo arranged slowly took on more of a philosophical than a gossipy tone. This was partly due to a lack of new and interesting office-gossip: the only interesting work-related event was the guest lectures the candidates for the vacant professorship would give and now that Vivi had stabilised into a relationship with Koza after enough coffeeshop-dates to give a normal person caffeine poisoning, all opportunities for interesting relationship-related gossip seemed to dry up as well.

And the last day before the holidays dawned as so many other do, to a grey sky and a niggling feeling that you’ve forgotten something important.

The holidays had crept nearer as a persistent phone salesperson, filling the campus and town with the usual holiday-related decorations and general feeling of jolliness and cheer. This last day was no different, except for a certain thinning of the student body, many having opted for an early start to their break, as is tradition.

Although there was to be no waltzing reindeer in the office, there was enough kitsch and honest attempts at cheerfulness to keep all spirits permanently downtrodden. This state of affairs was not eased by the general feeling of victory filling the faculty, causing them to refocus their attention on the poor students. Usually, a loss for the faculty in the annual football game would lead to an increase in the workload for the students, as fair payback.

An unprecedented win, however, led the faculty to newly discovered heights of joy and triumph and the general atmosphere of merriment reassured them that the students could take on just a couple more assignments, for football’s sake.

It wouldn’t do to let up on the standards, after all.

Luckily enough for Nami and her housemates, their last lecture before the holiday break was a lovely double-whammy of insight into methodology with professor Nico who normally was not swayed by the outcome of the football match and assigned them a mountain of work all on her own. She didn’t hold with taking out feelings of either loss or victory on the students (and she didn’t partake in events designed to improve faculty-student relations as she regarded them as a waste of time, effort and sanity).

Professor Nico Robin was a world-renowned archaeologist and expert on forensic anthropology, having travelled the world like some sort of improved Indiana Jones who actually respected the ruins and lost societies she happened upon. Whispers of something dark in her past kept resurfacing with regular intervals, especially around Halloween, but as no-one could prove anything, the whispers kept a low profile and grew more and more outrageous with each passing year. Last Nami heard, the professor was rumoured to have lit a whole country on fire before she turned ten.

But she was one of those people to whom an ‘open door policy’ actually meant something. She always had an ear or three for people’s problems and an almost magical ability to learn the strengths and weaknesses of her students. She had also endeared herself to Nami forever when she once stopped by her office in Nami’s first week as office assistant and wordlessly left a packet of chocolate chip cookies and a steaming mug of tea on her desk on the day the Dean had decided to introduce her to the joys of filing travel reports in a highly respected research university which both encouraged participating in each and every conference possible and saw the rule about attaching proper receipts more as a suggestion.

But since she was that rare breed of a truly likeable teacher, people often wanted to exceed her expectations and highly demanding classes on their own, not due to some externally imposed standard.

And so, Nami felt wrung out and left to dry in some dark and damp corner when the lecture finally wound down, countless hours spent in pondering the nature of reality and knowledge. If you think, you are, and therefore you should be really, really certain that this is something you want to do.

The things you did for your degree.

But, as Sanji loved to remind her, ‘class is a state of mind’.

No-one knew if he referred to actual educational classes, had created subtle commentary on societal structures, or if he meant something completely different. Whatever he meant mainly seemed to include lounging about around the house and attending the few classes he had through various virtual platforms while he tried out some new recipe he’d found. Or invented.

Professor Nico – or Robin, as she had demanded Nami call her after an incident involving the copier, a tabby cat and a bucket of potatoes that neither had escaped unharmed – waited for the class to settle before releasing them to the sweet freedom of the Christmas break.

“I just wanted to remind you that we’ll be welcoming a new member of staff soon and that the candidates will be giving their trial lectures straight after the holidays.”

That made the student’s groan. Everyone loathed extra guest lectures.

Nami planted a sharp elbow in Luffy’s side, the man having managed to fall asleep beside her within the past ten seconds, his nose housing a large bubble that grew and shrank with his breathing. How he did it, she knew not – and wasn’t particularly interested in finding out either.

Robin looked over the class, wry look in her eyes. “As the attendance will require some extra input from you, you will also get bonus points for attending the lectures.”

That made the student’s perk up. Everyone loved extra credit.

They did give their all with professor Nico, but bonus points were always bonus points. Robin was as strict with her grading as she was popular amongst the students in general and the more gothic clique in particular.

“They will be held in the beginning of next year; keep an eye out for exact dates and times.”

And with that, glorious freedom and a few weeks of rest and recuperation was upon them.

Nami and Luffy strolled towards the square outside in order to both get something warm to drink and wait for Chopper and Usopp to emerge from biotech; they were stuck with old Red-Nose for the moment, the cellular features of beetle armour the topic du jour, which meant they’d probably be around half an hour late.

Red-Nose wasn’t known for keeping the schedule.

Or his temper in check.

Or research assistants.

The weather had turned cold and clammy and not even a triple-jumper-combo could keep Nami warm as they stood in the queue to the coffee cart stationed outside.

How Luffy could look so relaxed in just a t-shirt and shorts, Nami would never know.

“What’s the word for horny, but not in a sexual way?” Luffy asked as their turn came in the queue, causing the poor barista to drop the jar of coffee beans on the ground.

Nami cast a questioning look at him from the corner of her eye, paying for their beverages when the poor man finally got his beans counted.

“Like, I’m horny for Christmas presents and all the holiday food, but I don’t want to fuck a reindeer, you know?” Luffy said as he accepted the hot cocoa proffered.

“I think the word you’re looking for is ‘excited’,” an amused voice from behind them chimed in. Professor Nico, strolling past, threw them a quiet smile as they choked on their drinks.

Nami, eyes streaming from the sudden onslaught of hot coffee sideways into her windpipe, watched the older woman take the proffered arm of a large man with electric blue hair and smiling brightly at him before strolling away into the darkening afternoon.

One of the reasons some of the students were interested in Nico Robin and attended her lectures was, sadly enough in this day and age, her husband.

Nami had never seen them together before, but this had to be the fabled Cutty Flam, or ‘Franky’ as he was known around town, a self-taught technology and IT genius. The man was wearing his trademark sunglasses and a loud Hawaiian shirt, decorated with pineapples, his hair done up in a gravity-defying mohawk.

He had tinkered around a bit before leaving university and starting his first engineering company at the age of twenty-one.

After that folded, he tried again and went bankrupt in a week. After that, he tried again and again.

And again.

And again, until the lucky thirty-fifth break.

And after _that_ , the direction had been up and away.

His company was now one of the leading IT-security companies in the world and most students in their class would have given their right arm or other appendage of choice to get a chance to even talk to the eccentric whizz who could turn a scrap heap into a fully functioning robot with the help of a hammer, some scotch tape, a banana and a box of matchsticks.

He was also known around town for his catchphrases, ‘SUPER!’ and ‘life is too short for pants’. It was hard to forget the man after you saw him in the depths of winter, such as this day, wearing only the tiniest pair of speedos imaginable.

Maybe he and Luffy shared some common ancestor making them immune to the cold and causing a general lack of common sense. The world would never know.

All thoughts of Luffy’s parentage and possible connections to Franky were pushed to the side by the appearance of a slightly glassy-eyed Chopper, leading Usopp by the hand and explaining something about a slight accident and how Usopp would be able to see properly in just a few hours, he just needed rest and darkness and could Nami take his other hand and Luffy stop laughing, please, so they could get home?

Luckily enough, Sanji’s lectures had once again been online the whole day, which meant snacks were ready when the quartet stumbled in through the door, depositing Usopp on a kitchen chair. Without a pause, Sanji got a hot mug of tea and a cookie in his grasp as Luffy bounded away, shouting for Zoro to join them and Chopper and Nami sank down on the mismatched chairs surrounding their kitchen table, groaning from the combined exhaustion of keeping Usopp out of traffic and Luffy alive.

“Long day?”

“The longest,” Nami groused, reaching for a cookie. “I love Robin, but is she demanding…”

“Is there anything I can do?”

Nami barely deigned to lift her head from where it lay on her folded arms, a bone-deep weariness penetrating her very being. “Take of your shirt and make me a sandwich?”

“If you’re making sandwiches, can I have ham and cheese?”

Luffy bounded back into the kitchen, followed by a yawning Zoro. Sanji, the ever-attuned cook, rallied admirably form the sudden intrusion into the conversation between him and his beautiful Nami-swan.

“Sure. White or whole grain?”

“Whole grain. And button up your shirt,” Zoro said, plopping down on a chair.

Sanji flipped him off as he turned to make the wished-for sandwiches, but still doing the buttons he’d started opening at Nami’s request.

The rest of the afternoon slipped past like jellied eels in heels. With the crew gathered in the kitchen, too tired and apathetic to do anything about assignments as the deadlines were in the far future that is the new year, snack time soon turned into teatime which melted into calls for dinner. A short discussion on the merits of takeout (from Luffy) and the odiousness of calling for it (from Zoro) was followed by a declaration of starvation as the only option (from both Luffy and Zoro). This, in turn, elicited an outcry from Sanji and a general lamentation regarding the pathetic nature of both Zoro and Luffy and a declaration of dinner.

“How would you like your steak cooked?” Sanji asked from the stove, prepping the pan.

Usopp had found a great deal on meat a while ago, which, interestingly enough, had turned out to be half a cow. The back half, to be precise. Usopp and Sanji had combined forces and learned to butcher said cow out in the garden shed and Nami decided to never, ever take a look inside the innocuous little hut.

She didn’t even know you could do things like that with those parts of a cow, but Sanji proved, once again, his brilliance in the kitchen.

And there was something to be said about having steak for dinner as students.

“Like winning an argument with Nami!” Luffy answered, occupied with doodling on the bandage that had recently appeared on Zoro’s arm, taking advantage of the fact that his green-haired friend had fallen asleep in his chair.

Zoro had declined all delicate inquiry as well as bold-faced questions regarding the history of the suddenly bandaged appendage. Chopper was the only one who knew what had happened and turned a concerning shade of white anytime anyone tried to ask him about it.

“Rare it is,” Sanji said, turning back to his task, ignoring Luffy’s objections.

Sanji had appeared in their lives at around the same time Usopp made his entrance. The two young men had both answered an ad about housemates Nami had put out when she, Zoro and Luffy started their studies. As the house they were looking at only had one extra bed, Zoro had suggested a trial by combat to choose who would join them, but as both boys soon proved to be both helpful and dependable, they decided to make do with what they had and just cram into the small house, affectionately named Maison de Merry in honour of their landlord.

The lack of space nonetheless became extremely apparent when Vivi moved in and then out again in somewhat quick succession and Chopper, transferring in the middle of the year, took up residence on their sofa. After that first chaotic year, they had found their current peace in the creaky corners of the Sunny.

Although he denounced the obvious stereotypes loudly and often, the blond Frenchman had soon taken over the kitchen, muttering something about the others’ abysmal skills in the art of cooking and how ‘he couldn’t believe the French had to come and save the day _again_ ’. He didn’t much care for the traditional birthday present (which consisted of baguettes) or letting anyone else than either himself or Nami do the grocery shopping (as they would include the choicest frog’s legs and snails, no matter what he put on the shopping list) nor letting anyone else into the kitchen except to eat (as he would then find croissants all over the place), but after giving the culprits (Luffy and Usopp) a stern talking to and a couple of whacks, he usually calmed down and served them dinner.

At the moment, he was clad in a frilly apron with a curly font proclaiming that someone should ‘Kill the cook’, courtesy of Zoro, putting the finishing touches to tomorrow’s dessert that apparently had to solidify overnight. The others had withdrawn to the living room, leaving Nami at the rapidly darkening kitchen table, nursing a cup of tea and watching Sanji work.

There was something soothing about his precise movements and confident actions, moving from cupboard to sink to cutting board to fridge, before starting the dance all over again; a mellow humming the only noise in the kitchen, warm light reflecting in the dark windows and casting everything in a glow so comfy and homely that one could easily have mistaken the scene for a commercial for a dating service or pet food or diapers or something of that ilk.

A pensive air filled the space, relaxing and calming, filling Nami with an unfamiliar sense of repose and quiet. Even the light seemed somehow richer in its glow overhead, painting the shadows a charming hue of familiarity and comfort.

“Do you believe in true love?” Sanji suddenly asked, whisking something in a bowl, leaning on the counter. Nami started, having lost herself in her thoughts, trying to shake the creeping feeling of having to look over her shoulder to check for dancing babies.

There was something weird about the kitchen. It usually felt calm and collected, never this intimate and circumspectly private.

Maybe the house was up to something again. It had, after all, once locked Luffy in the attic for three days before. They had finally found him talking to the birds nesting in the cracks in the roof like some maniacal prince from a deranged fairy tale. The most plausible theory so far was that Luffy had insulted the house by his throwaway suggestion of repainting the staircase.

“Why do you ask?”

Sanji shrugged, adding an egg to whatever it was he was doing. “Just curious. You know what I think about it, but I realised I’ve never heard your take on it all. And for some reason, the ambience here is really, really tender at the moment.” Sanji looked confused. “That’s weird. I usually don’t say that out loud.”

Nami gave a wry smile. “A romantic indeed! You believe in true love. And with every woman you meet.” She furrowed her brows. The feeling of closeness and confidentiality was growing on her. Like mould. “There’s something off with the kitchen.”

Sanji smiled, depositing the mysterious substance in tiny cups and placing them carefully in the fridge before starting the venerated ceremony of wiping down the surfaces.

“I’ll be done in a minute, let’s go join the dunderheads after that. But first, fair maiden, your answer!” He brandished a newly washed spatula like a sword at Nami, an expression of the most mocking seriousness on his face.

“Neither fair, nor maiden, good sir,” Nami said, laughing at Sanji’s shocked face and the way he clutched at his proverbial pearls. She then sank into a sigh, playing with her spoon, making it run round the rim of her cup. Round and round we go and where it stops nobody knows…

“I don’t know about love. There’s over seven billion people on this planet, and you think _one_ person is the one true love for you?”

“Maybe not one, but maybe one that’s true enough,” Sanji said with a crooked smile lifting the corner of his mouth, leaning against the sink as he dried the last of the glasses. Nami answered his smile with a raised eyebrow and a shake of her head.

“Sometimes I think Vivi was it for me, but then I remember how we drove each other up the bend,” she said with a wry smile. “Literally. We’d have killed each other before long. Either out of general frustration or from exhaustion brought about by too much sex.”

There was always something weirdly enjoyable seeing Sanji choke on air, Nami reflected as she deposited her empty cup in the sink and gave the blond a couple of whacks in the back as he tried to hack up a lung.

“I always forget your poor sensibilities,” she said when he managed to calm down. “You’ll live.”

“I think you’re right,” Sanji managed to wheeze. “It’s nice you two are still friends, though. Not many people manage that.”

“It did take some work,” Nami allowed. “I count myself lucky we managed to sort ourselves out. But she’s a truly lovely person, just not the true love for me, or whatever it was you said.”

“Well, plenty of fish in the sea!”

“True, but do you know what else there is?” She poked idly at a stain ingrained in the wooden table, waiting for Sanji to get his apron off and deposited on its proper peg. “Trash. There’s a lot of trash in the sea. And I don’t want to float in trash just to maybe have the change of finding a fish.”

She held up a hand to stop what she knew was coming next. “Sanji, I appreciate your concern, but I’m fine. I don’t need to be in a relationship to be… whole, or complete, or whatever your view of peak human existence is.”

“I know. You’ve just seemed so down lately, and I just thought–”

“It’s not the anniversary of my and Vivi’s break up,” Nami said. “Although, thanks for reminding me now, I guess.”

“As long as you’re fine,” he said, giving her a one-handed hug. “I know you’re a strong, independent woman and not looking for anything, but I hope you know I’ll always be here for you?” He gave her a small smile. “As a friend.”

“Thanks, Sanji,” Nami said. “And I’m going to miss you, you know.” It was surprisingly cozy leaning against Sanji’s side, the distant laughter from the living room creating a comforting blanket of ambient noise.

There really was something off about the kitchen tonight. She usually tolerated hugs, but she did _not_ enjoy them.

“It’s only a couple of months. And we’ll be just a train ride and a message away from each other, anyway.”

“I know,” she said, smiling wearily. “But I’ve already done the whole ‘alone in a new place and find your place’-dance once. I’d rather not do it again.”

“You do realise it’s your own choice to go abroad?” Sanji laughed, quickly tightening his grip before letting her go.

“I know, I know,” Nami groaned. “But you could have come with me, instead of deciding to go to Paris like the stereotypical Frenchman you are.”

“Je suis trés désolé,” Sanji said in his poshest drawl, “for not seeing the charm of Munich you so clearly do and instead wanting my time abroad to actually include good education.”

“Hey! The Technische Universität in Munich is a good school.”

She shuddered, the warm light in the kitchen creeping up on her, reminding her of the glow of an old cast-iron oven. “But seriously, there’s something weird about the kitchen right now. We should leave it to its fate. And never talk about feelings again.”

When they joined their housemates in the living room, it was to a scene of carnage, making them stop in the door and Sanji to swear out loud.

Luffy had gotten a taste for cocoa during his and Nami’s earlier stop and had decided to make some at home. And as Sanji had kicked them out of the kitchen to prepare for the next day’s food extravaganza (commonly known as dinner), the only logical solution had been to make it in the fireplace.

Which worked according to the internal logic of the house, which meant sporadically and only if you asked it nicely.

There was cocoa everywhere, but at least Luffy, Chopper and Usopp seemed happy, curled up with their mugs and a veritable mountain of whipped cream on top. Usopp had even managed to scrounge a bag of marshmallows from some mysterious place which might or might not be the shed out back. The trio was now occupied by stretching the limits of Luffy’s powers in the most literal sense.

“Do you think I could fit fifteen marshmallows into my mouth?” Luffy asked with a pensive look.

Nami yawned as she curled up next to a snoring Zoro, enjoying his internal furnace. “You’re a hazard to society.”

Sanji laughed and shook his head, heading towards the back door and his scheduled smoke break. “And a coward. Do twenty.”

“What’s the last record?”

“I’ve done twelve,” Luffy said with a proud look on his face, slightly too earnest for someone with a dab of whipped cream on his nose. “But I think I can work my way up to fifteen. Twenty might be on the edge, but I’m no coward.”

With that, he started emptying the bag of marshmallows and sort the pieces in equal piles. Nami merely shook her head as she watched Usopp sketch something with a lot of billowing cloaks and swords, Chopper idly kicking his hooves back beside him.

“If a plant is sad, do other plants photosympathize with it?” Luffy asked all of a sudden, counting the fluffy pieces of sugar and spice and all things nice in front of him with an air of utmost concentration.

“I chlorofeel you, man,” Usopp nodded sagely, carefully shading a pommel. “There’s aloe of vera interesting theories regarding plant emotions around. Did you know that they can be friends and react to their surrounding trees being felled?”

“Are they pine-ing?”

Nami groaned, hiding her face in her hands. “I hate my life.”

A sad exclamation of disappointment made it clear that there weren’t enough pieces left for Luffy to attempt his marshmallow test.

“I knew it. You’re a coward,” Sanji said, returned from the scary outdoors.

“I’m not a coward,” Luffy protested. “There’s simply not enough marshmallows left.”

“Coward.”

“Curly-brow.”

“Rubber menace.”

“Cook.”

“That’s not an insult,” Usopp cut in, looking entertained as he put away his drawing supplies.

“French cook.”

“And that, my friend, is what we call a fact.”

“This is the longest day of my life,” Nami said, shaking her head. “I should just give up.”

“At least you are one day closer to your next plate of nachos,” Sanji said.

Luffy looked up, starry eyed and the latest attempt at an insult totally forgotten. “That is the greatest thing I’ve ever heard! Can we have nachos tomorrow?”

Chopper looked troubled, abandoning his attempts to get the last half-melted marshmallow out of his cup. “But what if I die tomorrow and never eat any more nachos?”

Luffy gasped, a horrified expression slowly unfolding as he contemplated the possibility of never eating nachos again, while Usopp merely grinned. “Then it’s nacho lucky day.”

Nami’s groan was loud enough to wake Zoro who sat up with a jerk.

“But I have another question,” Chopper said, head in hoof, his thoughts apparently on a roll this evening. “What happens to nitrogen when the sun rises?”

Nami never knew if Chopper really was the oblivious and innocent little dear he both looked and acted like, or if he just wound her up very, very slowly.

“It becomes daytrogen,” Usopp answered.

“And I’m out,” Nami said, rising from the couch, shaking her head.

“Good nitrogen!” wished Chopper.

“Sleep tightrogen!” hollered Luffy.

“Don’t let the bedbugs bitrogen!” from Sanji, the traitor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Ontology_ : the knowledge of reality; the branch of metaphysics dealing with the nature of being  
>  _Epistemology_ : the theory of knowledge, especially with regard to its methods, validity, and scope, and the distinction between justified belief and opinion.
> 
> I hope, from the bottom of my heart that you won't encounter them in a dark alley somewhere.
> 
> Also; trees do communicate and have friends. The Smithsonian had an interesting article about it called "Do Trees Talk to Each Other?” (https://www.smithsonianmag.com/science-nature/the-whispering-trees-180968084/)

**Author's Note:**

> Research question: What will it take for me to write a multi-chapter fic?
> 
> Methods: An iterative longitudinal process [I will rewrite so much], supplemented with proven coping-mechanisms [lots of tea, encouragement, weird tumblr-quotes, and copious amounts of time], as well as industry-specific writing software [Word].
> 
> Results: Forthcoming
> 
> Conclusions: [PUT CONCLUSIONS HERE]


End file.
